


The Makings of a Prince | Changlix

by Ly_The_Great_Fandom_Trashcan



Series: Three Kingdoms AU [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Ancient History, And Kim Seungmin is... Kim Seungmin :), Bang Chan is a Mess, Bang Chan is a new recruit, Bonding, But can be read alone :), But he turns a new leaf at the end :(, Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, Disguise, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, FELIX IS A BAD PRINCE, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Issues, Farmer Seo Changbin, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Gen, He's not a guard yet, Historical, Kidnapping, Late Night Conversations, Lee Felix is Bad at Feelings (Stray Kids), Lee Felix is a Little Shit (Stray Kids), Lee Felix is lonely :(, Lee Felix is the crown prince, M/M, Major Character Injury, Maybe - Freeform, Mentioned ATEEZ Ensemble, Mentioned Han Jisung | Han, Mentioned Lee Minho | Lee Know, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Fandoms Not Mentioned in Tags, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Prequel, Prequel to Almost Killing the Prince, Princes & Princesses, Quests, Royalty, Seo Changbin Being an Asshole, Seo Changbin is a Good Friend, Seo Changbin is a farmer, Soft Seo Changbin, Spies & Secret Agents, Swordfighting, Swords, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ly_The_Great_Fandom_Trashcan/pseuds/Ly_The_Great_Fandom_Trashcan
Summary: //THIS IS A CHANGLIX SPINOFF + PREQUEL TO MY MINSUNG FIC ALMOST KILLING THE PRINCE. THIS CAN BE READ ALONE BUT THE PROLOGUE MIGHT BE A LITTLE CONFUSING.//What made a prince? What was the exact moment that a prince culminated into a king?Being the king's only heir proved almost impossible to Yongbok. All the responsibility, expectations, power weighed him down, not to mention all the mindless teachings he possibly couldn't grasp.What made a king? What made a prince? What made a friend?Even he didn't know. Though, maybe, a narrow-eyed farmer could help him grasp fleeting concepts even the scholars couldn't help him understand.//Disclaimer! I apologize for any historical errors I have made in this story, I have tried my best to research as much as I could, however, only limited to Google and K-Dramas, I can't get far with Korea's history.//
Relationships: Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Series: Three Kingdoms AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170419
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. | Prologue |

"Go meet the love of your life, hyeong!"

Yongbok barks, laughing, pushing his bumbling elder brother as he scrambles to his feet, running off mindlessly past the trees where the freckled prince pointed out a certain squirrelly man.

In moments, his brother was out of sight and even when Yongbok could still glimpse slightly what would eventually come to fruition between the two, he wanted to give them their well-earned privacy, turning around to stare at the river instead.

Lee Minho was a good man. He didn't doubt Jisung's ability to protect his brother or vice versa. He knows that he's barely reunited with his brother, and the two practically have to begin from the bottom due to lost time, but seeing his melancholy at Jisung's disappearance was just too heartbreaking.

Yongbok had tried to get his brother to forget about Han Jisung, or at least help him with his heartache. He tried to get him a new personal guard, tried to ease him into the usual flow of royalty, even indulged his fishing desires to get away from everything every once in a while, as Yongbok often did over the years. And even though Minho always dismissed his own feelings for the sake of his royal image, Yongbok knew what was really going on in that stubborn head of his. He could see and feel how his brother must've felt.

Having to let someone go for the sake of their own well-being? His own experience wasn't too drastic, but Yongbok had some sort of truth to the experience.

"You're just staying here?"

"Maybe," Yongbok hums as a familiar guard sits next to him by the river bed, placing his scabbard between them. "You know how I am. I like to unwind like this after a long mission."

"Geez, you still have that thing?" Changbin gestures to the younger's fishing pole with a scoff. "I thought you threw it away by now. And didn't your aunt give you a new one a year ago??"

"What can I say? It's special to me, you know. Plus, it's sturdy, despite having it for about five years now."

Changbin laughs lightly, Yongbok turning to him with a smile, "I thought you'd have left them by now and return to the palace. I'm sorry, but I don't think they'd come back for you."

"I thought _you'd_ have left me by now, yet here we are."

Changbin gestures to the pair ways away, smiling and standing before each other. A beautiful sight, Yongbok understands. Truly, he was happy for his brother. That he found someone to confide in, to trust and help him forget the loneliness of the palace. Someone who wouldn't leave him just for the sake of saving face. Someone who he could see himself in, like the river, calming and comforting.

"I misjudged Jisung, I admit," Yongbok hums, Changbin nodding as he picks up the fishing rod Minho left behind and casts it out into the river, letting the tension from their recent mission relieve itself. Yongbok was usually correct about this, that the river was a successful therapist for stress and misunderstandings. It was a way to reflect upon themselves by staring out in the water, a mirror that helped them pick out the answers. "I thought that he would be the weak link in the team."

"Then why send him at all?"

"Because you taught me to show mercy." Yongbok turns to the guard. "I knew that if he stayed, he'd have to stay in the prison. The guards might've executed or punished him then. I was hoping, being a thief and all, he'd have escaped from you by the time you reached the Silla border."

"Well, he didn't. And it's thanks to Jisung we even brought Minho safe and sound. A little bruised, yes, but he's healed, isn't he?" Changbin bubbles, laughing and giggling and smiling so brightly at the younger. It's been a while since the prince had seen Changbin smile like that because of all the tension and the stress concerning the royal family. Yongbok could never tire of it.

"I know. And thank you, too. For, staying by my side all this time. You keep saying that I saved you all those years ago, but in actuality, you saved me. And I don't just mean physically."

The two settle in a tranquil quiet, a rare occurrence with their occupations and regular lives. It had always been a run here, run there, solve a problem over there and here and under that. As a crown prince, there was never a full break where Yongbok unhinged from the responsibilities of the monarchy.

However, this moment, with Changbin, fishing in the calm murmurs of the river really brought a certain type of calm that Yongbok only experienced once in his life.

"This feels familiar," Yongbok says, nudging the older with his shoulder and a bright smile, his freckled cheeks rounding.

"Really? How?"

"Remember? _'Hello, my name is Lee Yongbok,'"_ the freckled prince tilts his head down in greeting, before bursting out into giggles. "It's finally calm, don't you think? Us, just fishing, forgetting everything else, and throwing caution to the wind even for just a second. We needed it, and I truly think that it's what really brought us together."

Yongbok laughs, staring out to the water, "It reminded me of when we first met."


	2. | I |

A prince took care of the people. A prince took care of himself. A prince took care of small political problems when the time arises. He wakes up early to ready himself to bear the weight of responsibility and the problems of the kingdom. He washes himself clean of any dirt or any impurities from the day prior. He hosts meetings with the officials to share his wisdom with them; He leads them and gives them insight into his developing power. He attends his studies and works diligently to set an example for—not just the royalty and noblemen, but the servants and the lower class that worked hard under him. He doesn't panic when things go south. He doesn't show weakness, for the people will revolt without his confidence. He stays calm at all times, for he is the face of the kingdom. And when he retires for the night, there is an infinitesimal moment where he feels vulnerable.

However, what turns a prince into a king? What is the exact moment where a prince culminates into a ruler and not just some mascot waiting for their turn to lead?

And what makes a good ruler into a great ruler? If a great kingdom and a powerful army is a given, what does the king have to do to continue the upkeep? Or begin it at all?

For that, Yongbok believes it had something to do with the upbringing a king had as a prince.

As the king, he didn't take care of the people, but everything within and surrounding areas of the kingdom. He didn't only take care of himself, but a king took care of everyone in the court. He took care of _every_ political problem with no exceptions. He wakes up early, having never gotten proper rest the night prior. He keeps his impurities and problems the next day and the day after—a king can't let go of a problem without properly solving it. A king doesn't set an example, for he is at the top of the pyramid; no one can be equal to him. No one could work as hard as him, for no one can be better than the king. He doesn't panic or show weakness—not even to his family, for the people will crumble without his confidence after placing their trust in him for years. He stays calm, providing a connection between the heavens and the people; he is the heart of the kingdom. And when the king retires for the night, he can't be vulnerable, for any form of vulnerability provides an opening for his enemies to attack him.

But if a king is twice—thrice—quadruple times a prince is, how could a prince even live up to the expectations placed upon himself?

"No. Tell them they're on their own. Especially after trading with Goguryeo. They swore their alliance to us first and Goguryeo second."

"No. They must do the ritual on their own. Just because one tiny village is in need, doesn't mean that it requires the entire attention of the court."

"No. Execute him. There's no need for a conference."

A king requires undivided attention. How could a prince become a king if these small, useless problems keep appearing? When villages, despite being self-sufficient and more, continue to make mistake after mistake? Royalty shouldn't need to affiliate themselves with such problems. There were much bigger problems that needed tending to, problems that Yongbok couldn't even assist in.

What help would he be, anyway?

"The scholars and looking for you, you know."

Yongbok turned around, acknowledging a familiar puppy-eyed individual behind him, jumping off his horse and dusting himself off. The older scoffs, turning back toward the river he sat in front of, silken royal hanbok dirtied from having fallen off his horse earlier. He leaned back on his palms, his Baji rolled up to his knees so he could dip his feet into the water.

"You're not fishing?" Seungmin questions, arching an eyebrow at the freckled prince. He crouched beside the younger, lifting and bunching his overcoat into his lap to keep them from touching the dirt. He leans over to glance at the river before grimacing in disgust and shuffling a step or two back.

"I don't want to fish," the freckled prince mutters, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued to stare at the rippling water. Seungmin whipped his head toward the younger with wide eyes. Honestly, it surprised Yongbok too. Fishing had been his life. It was one of the few ways he could escape the expectations placed upon him.

It relaxed him; it was one of the few things he excelled at, with no one judging him for doing so. It was the one thing that connected him to the happier days that seemed so distant now. Days that even he couldn't fully decipher—were they even real?

"Tell them I won't be back until later. I'm busy," Yongbok says. He could feel the stare Seungmin had on him, how his eyebrows furrowed and a frown settled on his lips, before sighing and placing his arms on his knees.

"I won't be going back either," he shrugs, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could without dirtying his hanbok.

Seungmin was the only one in the palace he could trust. He didn't have the baffling expectations of Yongbok; he didn't have the overbearing, pretentious personalities of the officials (despite being the son of one). Sure, he acted like a pompous, frugal nobleman, but that was just Kim Seungmin. That was one thing that made him specifically _'Kim Seungmin.'_ And sometimes, he had a heart of gold to those he knew.

"I heard about all of those villagers you turned down," Seungmin murmurs, Yongbok turning away. After all that, Seungmin shouldn't start battering him on this matter now. Yongbok didn't want Seungmin to change, he didn't want the younger to act like the officials at his side. "That was kind of cruel."

"Seungmin, please, not now," the freckled prince huffs, kicking the water from the river.

"I'm not trying to scold you or anything but... They needed help, you know."

"There are other, _more_ important villages that need our help. Villages that provide Baekje with so much more that the ones that ask become leeches to the kingdom's ass," Yongbok hisses, Seungmin turning toward his friend with furrowed eyebrows.

"I'm just saying—"

"Those villages are more than capable to protect themselves. Don't you notice? Father doesn't send any guard over there, and they've done fine for all these years. What makes them think _I'll_ send them guards?"

Yongbok couldn't help it. In order for a prince to become a king, he had to place much more important matters first, those smaller villages second.

Yongbok never wanted to do this. He never asked to become a prince that dealt with the smaller issues—someone who ultimately made up his father's image. He had to think and prioritize as a king, not some dumb prince.

He had to grow up. Face the real world instead of dwelling in the fantasies of his premature self.

The two sat in silence, Yongbok grateful for Seungmin's withdrawal. He knew he'd upset the younger if he brought up another political issue, and that was the last thing Yongbok wanted. Not because he couldn't take another harsh criticism at his pride, but because he didn't want to fight with his friend.

When the sun climbed the peak of the sky, and Yongbok's mind wandered toward lunch, the two perk up at the sound of an additional neighing.

Another horse halted ways away from Seungmin and Yongbok, beside their horses, who nickered greetings toward each other. The guard jumped off the saddle, bowing to the freckled prince.

"His Majesty, the king, would like to see you." 

**—-**

"Why?"

 _Why_ did Yongbok even ask? Couldn't he just take orders, be the proper subordinate to the king? Was it because a part of him thought it'd be useless? Was it because this just seemed like a coup in disguise to take Yongbok out of the picture? Was it because Yongbok just _didn't want to?_

"Because you're the prince and I'm telling you to go to this village," the king says. "There were reports of this village housing spies."

"Isn't that too dangerous of a job for me?" Yongbok furrows his eyebrows, gripping his knees. "Why don't you send a general? Or a troop of guards?"

"I am. With you leading them."

"But royal father—" Yongbok flinches when the King's eyes flicker up at him, sighing and almost slouching if it weren't for the constant thought of his princely image. "This isn't a matter for a prince."

"Does it matter who it's for or not?" The king asks. He opens his mouth before coughing, clearing his throat. "This is your chance to show the kingdom you're willing to take down Goguryeo spies yourself if needed. It'll also assert your power down over by the Southeast."

Yongbok could scoff at that. Assert his power down by the Southeast? Those living there, while under their territory, might be the farthest thing to loyal to the throne. If anything, they might've _forgotten_ that they lived under Baekje! Why even assert his title when he couldn't even do _that_ here, at the capital? If he didn't know any better, he'd think that this _was_ some intricate ploy to ship him away. But his father wouldn't do that. Sadly.

Yongbok knew the king wouldn't do that to his only heir.

"Yongbok," he sighs when he notices the young prince's hesitance, knitting his eyebrows together. "You've always said you wanted to do something more than handle issues with small villages."

How is this any different? Instead of resolving each trivial issue from the comfort of the palace or within the meetings with the officials, he had to go out himself and solve these problems. Maybe the officials had enough of him and asked the king to teach Yongbok something instead of letting the young prince sit on his ass all day.

But instead of doing it himself, the king just sends his son out to the wilderness by himself, with a flock of useless guards to protect him when needed.

"You won't understand their problems unless you get a hands-on approach, my mother used to say." Yongbok frowns, nodding aimlessly as he stared down at his hands, bunching the silk of his hanbok. "After you return, I'll allow you more responsibilities."

But that was it, wasn't it? Yongbok didn't want anymore responsibilities on his shoulders if all they provided was meaningless experience he wouldn't ever use. And those said responsibilities were probably nothing more than everyday chores, problems, and such that shouldn't even _be_ under the prince's jurisdiction.

But it was _fine,_ Yongbok guessed. It was fine. He was the prince, his father was the king. No matter how long of years he's spent as a royal, he'll always be a king's subordinate. A subordinate had to respect and follow the superior, and that includes princes, grand and crown, alike.

"You're dismissed," the king said when not another word falls from Yongbok's mouth—for the better too. Who knows what other idiocy the crown prince spewed? He just wasn't cut out for this, wasn't he? Was there some defect when he was born? A defect that couldn't lead him to become a prince that _just_ followed orders: responsible, respectful, powerful.

"Yes, royal father." Yongbok picks himself off the cushion before bowing. "I'll depart tomorrow morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAA ANOTHER BOOK
> 
> AND MY FIRST PREQUEL!! 
> 
> I'm sorry this took awhile to come out, I just had a burnout in the middle of writing, but now I'm back!! After a month, jfc, but I really do hope y'all enjoy this book :)
> 
> Also i just wanted to say thank y'all for all the support y'all gave AKTP. I know y'all asked for a sequel, but as I'm writing the plot synopsis, I'm realizing how much I don't like the plot :/ So bear with me, it's going to take a long time before the first chapter is even published (but then again, I didn't even START writing AKTP after a year of leaving it on a shelf)
> 
> But, I'm hoping to write other books soon :) Hopefully lmao. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if Yongbok isn't like the Yongbok in AKTP. Remember, this took place YEARS before the events of Minsung. 
> 
> ANYWAY, enough of me talking, I hope y'all enjoy reading this! I'll be updating on Tuesdays (Maybe Sundays. but since this is a short book, probably not).
> 
> Much Love, Ly <3


	3. | II |

"Hey, did you hear?" Yongbok listens into the quiet murmurings between two guards in the back. Though they tried to be quiet, Yongbok could still hear them from the front of the group; the still, quiet forest not an ideal place to hide their gossip. "Rumors just spread from Silla the other day. Silla's crown prince is dead."

"How?"

Yongbok heard someone finally got to him. Yeah, he also heard the rumors. Mostly from Seungmin, who's in all kinds of gossip that hustled its way into town, through traders and travelers and whatnot. The younger was more interested in whatever went on between two neighbors instead of the politics he promised to study. Either way, Yongbok still listened.

He heard that it happened during a supposed "diplomatic" feast. That, and the slightly more interesting rumor that his personal guard had something to do with it.

It was a shame, really. While most royalty would take this sort of news with a celebratory toast (and a careful grain of salt, as they _were_ rumors, after all), Yongbok couldn't help but scoff. He knew that princes and their kings are held highest of regards in a kingdom. That every guard, official, general, peasant alike should always commit to their king. But, despite their verbal dedication to their monarchs, wouldn't the heart and the mind matter more?

An example of such things could be taken with the late Silla crown prince. His personal guard said he committed his life with the prince. But there was only betrayal and slaughter. And all for what? Selfishness? Morality? The greater good? _Please_. Don't make him laugh.

One's morals, whether be selfishness or anything good, would always outweigh their supposed dedication to their monarch. Everyone was out for themselves. Even princes, kings. Officials and generals, nobility, peasantry.

Despite all these guards, not one of them would Yongbok definitely say he could trust. Because just like with the Silla prince, one of them could betray him at any moment. They wouldn't risk their lives because of the greater good or a sense of duty. They would risk their lives, because they knew that if they didn't, the monarchy punishes them.

"Who's talking in the back?" Yongbok halts his horse, the other guards and eunuchs doing the same behind him. He turns, glancing past the guards that kept their head low, eyeing the one far in the back.

Curly, dark-haired, pale; a recruit or some other. Really, Yongbok didn't understand why the general insisted that the new sentry goes. He thought he'd need capable men in case of an attack. Maybe this really was just an easily disposable group for a quieter attack from the assassins.

"Don't talk again," Yongbok dismisses, nudging his horse into a walk. Usually, he'd be harsh on the guards. They were, after all, only guards. But he was a recruit. If they were to die during this mission, he might as well die without dipping his toes any further into royalty. 

**\---**

It took about a day and a half to get to the village.

They were reasonably far from Ungjin, somewhere near the borders to Silla and probably even closer to the territories of Gaya. If anyone heard from either neighboring nation that the prince was in this village, there'd be nothing but endless trouble, maybe a siege and an early funeral.

So before they entered the vicinities of the town, Yongbok changed his clothes, wore a guard outfit to blend in with the others. He'd not enter the town as a prince, but as a general of the king. It'd be less conspicuous this way, maybe less intimidating too. Besides, if the Goguryeo spies ever heard of the prince's arrival, surely they'd escape within the day. As a general, at least, they'd hold on to hope.

The village was a day's travel from the nearest town. Mostly farmers resided there, though a couple of other types of laborers dotted the small population.

The commoners all bowed at their arrival, the guards asking the village leader to gather the villagers at their community building. And they did, like the shepherds herding sheep before the dogs.

Though they all trembled, eyes shaking and head low before Yongbok and the small group of guards behind him. Fascination also dotted their fear, mingling into a sick curiosity that hovered above the group of villagers.

And to think Yongbok was about to enter the town as a prince. If _they_ couldn't even handle a general, Yongbok could only imagine how terrified they'd be if they were in the presence of anything higher.

Yongbok gestures to the nearest guard, eyeing the villagers with hands clasped behind his back.

"The kingdom of Baekje commends you of your hard work, and your dedication to His Majesty, the king," the guard said, eyes glossing over the crowd. "However, we'd like to stay and inspect the village for the following weeks."

Curious muttering washed in between each commoner, glancing at each other worriedly and turning to their village leader for any guidance.

"So be it. Could I ask _why?"_ The village leader questions, Yongbok arching an eyebrow. "We've paid the recent tribute, caused no harm. What else would the problem be?"

"Is a there a reason for any of you to know?" Yongbok questions. "The king sent us. We need a place to stay. And here we are. Isn't that enough of a reason?"

"Of course. We'll prepare a building for you and your—"

"There's no need," Yongbok dismisses, sighing and eyes narrowing at the crowd. "Though if any of the villagers commit any trouble during our stay—" Yongbok notices someone swallow hard with wide eyes on the dirt of his shoes, fists clenching. "You. Come here."

The villagers eye the specific man, who steadily glances up, pointing to himself.

Yongbok gives him a thin smile, gesturing him over as the villager stands before him, bowing. A deathly silence filled in the curious crevices between each villager, intimidated to breathe within the guards' presence. In their village? Why here? Why now? Surely, they've done nothing wrong.

"What do you do?"

The villagers _have_ done nothing wrong. But all of them are suspects—a potential threat to the kingdom. And _if_ the village _was_ housing such vermin, _then_ they'd be also be the ones to blame. Punished, even. Was that why they were so terrified? For they knew and accepted such consequences.

"I- I help tend the field," he says, bowing again.

"Where do you live?"

"In the northern part of the village."

"Where's your family?"

"There, sir." He gestures to the two women nearest him, Yongbok leaning over with a smile and a nod. They bow to him, Yongbok turning to the guards.

"Right. Take him in."

The man perks up with eyes wide and jaw hanging unhinged, sputtering and trying to fight against the two guards that held him.

Yongbok wanted it clear that they weren't there for any peaceful diplomatic matters. They were suspected of treason. They know what they did, and if they had any moral conscious, they would give up the spies. Of course, there was the smallest chance that their own informants only gave them false information. But until any further information revealed itself, Yongbok will force an answer out of them—well, _not much_ so force. But _coax_ them into spilling. Unless they hold on to their false ideas and never reveal the Goguryeo spies. They'd be digging their own graves then, and Yongbok would have to tear down this entire village himself if he had to.

He was a prince. It may seem rash, but it was a responsibility he needed to hold close to himself. If anything threatened the throne, he'd have to be there to protect it in whatever way possible.

"Tie him up, lock him in the shed there." Yongbok gestures to the small hut nearby. "Take turns guarding—"

"Hold on! You can't do this!" Yongbok turns to the sudden voice, a farmer, to the side of the group, trying to yank his arm away from others holding him back. They had reason to anyway. They were smart in trying to keep the farmer from speaking up. But not even coyotes could stop a donkey.

"I can't?" Yongbok arching an eyebrow, the middle-aged woman beside the farmer muttering something frantically to the farmer. He ignores her, taking a step forward and gesturing to the guards. He was dirty all over, probably yanked out of his work on the fields to gather at the sudden arrival of the guards. His short dark hair fell over his eyes, small lips into a downward frown and narrow eyes almost glaring at Yongbok.

The prince didn't get mad at him for the audacity. A commoner speaking up against a prince? Whatever. He was most impressed that the farmer even had the guts to speak up, much more look him in the eye.

"You can't just walk in here and punish us for not doing anything wrong," he said, voice rough and low. Yongbok huffs out a laugh, taking a step toward the shorter.

"Changbin, come back here, there's no need to—" Changbin ignores the pleas of his mother, the woman falling to her knees in despair before Yongbok. "I'm sorry for my son's incompetence! He's young and naïve and—please! Please forgive him!"

"You should listen to your mother." Yongbok gestures to the sniveling woman with his head.

"You're a coward," the farmer growls out, standing firm. And Yongbok scoffs at that. "You're picking on us when we've done nothing wrong."

"How do you know?" The prince narrows his eyes, the guards holding back the farmer when he tried to take a step further. "This is an order from the prince. Commoners shouldn't question a decree from the royalty that shielded you."

"What kind of damn prince would order something like this? He should just leave us alone. Why lash out on the people under him?"

This guy _really_ had guts. Yongbok somewhat excused his rigidness, for he currently disguised himself as a general. Surely, this mere farmer wouldn't dare speak about the prince if Yongbok truly revealed himself. Either way, it was entertaining at least. This one farmer almost made it worth traveling all the way here.

But he was right, mostly. Yongbok _was_ a coward. Why lash out on the people under him when they didn't even know of his existence? He should lash on the people—the _person_ above him. Who _knew_ of his existence but never lingered much on the thought. He was a coward, that's why. And he wanted to lash out on the people below him because it was the only sort of control he could ever have in his life.

"Hm, you're right." Yongbok hums, gesturing to the guards to let the man go, instead glancing at Changbin with a thin smile. "Grab him instead. Flog him twenty times, throw him in the shed. Oh, and don't release him until I say so."


	4. | III |

The village feared him. They had a right to fear him.

Despite being a couple steps down from his high ranking of a prince, he still introduced his power. Surely, it was only a matter of time until the villagers understand the gravity of their visit. This wasn’t just some mere inspection from the kindness of the king.

If there was alarming information on a Goguryeo spy within Baekje, then this wasn’t any laughing matter. And Yongbok hoped that the villagers knew that. They should. If they valued their lives.

They settled in the forest near the town. One of the higher-ranking guards suggested that Yongbok take a building that the village leader offered, but the prince was too much of a paranoid bastard to even _think_ about staying in the village. So he opted to stay with the guards, thankfully taking a tent for himself. While he didn’t trust them any more than the villagers, at least they’d come to his aid if there was ever a chance of an attack.

Within days, Yongbok ordered the guards to snoop around the village, bribe villagers, take in the gossip—anything that would help them get back to Ungjin quicker. To keep it inconspicuous but clear. They didn’t want to reveal their purpose but suggest to the villagers of their intentions.

However, two days passed, and the guards always came back with nothing. They were always mere local gossips: a farmer caught cheating on his wife, someone falling into the nearby river, stolen goods and such.

So Yongbok took it into his own hands. If he wanted something done, he had to do it himself. Besides, a walk around the village early in the morning wouldn’t hurt. And he was tired of being stuck in the camp all day long. In all honesty, he missed the lectures and the overbearing scholars, the officials and the intimidating comfort of the palace. Here, camped out in the forest, was nothing but boredom and the sounds of captains ordering their soldiers and the early clamors of the company waking up.

The sun was barely out, shining so prettily upon the forest and the village.

The villagers bowed to him when he and the recruit—Chan walked past, the freckled prince smiling thinly and nodding to whoever bowed.

The village seemed normal enough. Farmers waking up early to prepare for a long day of labor, starting with the breakfast they cooked for themselves and their families. It was quiet, nothing more on the streets than people passing by or the occasional dog that padded along.

Though he recognized a familiar farmer hobbling along the path ahead, a basket of radishes under his arm as he winced in pain from walking. His dark hair fell over his eyes, sighing when he recognized Yongbok approaching him, stopping in his track to allow the prince and the guard to walk by. But the young prince didn’t mind the frown directed toward him. Not at all. Not the scowl, or the glare, or the passive-aggressive bow either.

He was, after all, only released yesterday. Yongbok didn’t expect the farmer to show even a hint of respect toward him.

“How’s your back?” Yongbok questions with a hum, standing before the farmer who kept his eyes low.

“Fine,” he mutters, before bowing again, walking past to which Yongbok scoffs. The freckled prince turns to the curly-haired guard beside him, arching an eyebrow and gesturing to the farmer.

“What’s his name again?”

“Seo Changbin, your highness.” Chan clears his throat, Yongbok sighing as he runs after the hobbling man.

“Why the long face, Seo Changbin? Here, let me help you with that—“

“I can do it myself. There’s no need to burden yourself.” Changbin was borderline talking disrespectfully, a mockery upon the younger’s status, he supposes. But Yongbok ignored it, instead skipping along and standing in front of Changbin. The shorter halts, glaring at the freckled prince with a sigh.

“How was your stay at the stables? I hope the guards didn’t treat you poorly.”

“Please leave me alone,” Changbin bows again, stepping to the side and walking past Yongbok. 

“Why? You seemed intent on interfering the other day. Now, look what happened.” The freckled prince followed him with a small hum. “Why did you defend that man? Do you know him?”

Changbin doesn’t answer this time, and Yongbok decides to push it further. A nudge or a shove, he didn’t care. If he could provoke Changbin enough, maybe that’d get the farmer to spill. Anger made people do stupid things, after all.

“I hope you know why we’re here. We’ve come to inspect the village. That includes you and your family, and if none of you speak up, we’d have to take on extreme measures.” Yongbok noticed Changbin glance up but continued on walking. “And right now, I’m suspecting a lot from you. Especially since you made quite a scene in the first _hour_ of our arrival. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think you from the capital don’t understand the meaning of community.” Changbin stops walking, turning to Yongbok with an irritating huff and a gesture with his head. “I suggest you leave before any of you stick yourselves in places you don’t belong.”

“Is that a threat?” The prince arched an eyebrow, Changbin rolling his eyes.

“It could be anything you want it to be,” Changbin retaliates, the taller scoffing and gesturing to Chan.

“Give him your sword.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Changbin says, though Chan was quick to block him from walking, unsheathing his sword and handing it to the farmer. “We have jobs, you know.”

“I know.” Yongbok hums, unsheathing his weapon as Chan takes the basket of radishes from Changbin and pushes him toward the freckled prince. Changbin immediately hisses at him, trying to retrieve his basket of radishes. But seeing that the curly-haired guard wouldn’t budge—Yongbok had the right to suspect him. Anything he said or did wasn’t that of a normal villager, surely, he must be the spy they were looking for.

And it made sense, too. Maybe the reason being the guards couldn’t find any evidence of a spy was because the spy was _already_ in their captivity. Locked in a shed, named Seo Changbin.

The said man glances at the sword in his grasp, tilting it and glancing up at Yongbok with furrowed eyebrows.

“Farmers aren’t the only ones that have jobs, you know,” Yongbok says, raising his sword with both hands before circling the farmer. The latter keeps his eyes on him, turning whenever Yongbok left his field of vision. “I, for example, have to get rid of irritating problems that jump up occasionally.”

“What are you? A rat exterminator?” Changbin asks, Yongbok halting with a breath of a laugh.

“I never thought of that, but yes. In ways, I am.” The prince clears his throat before he lunged forward, swinging his sword at Changbin that the latter dodges, jumping and retaliating with his own attack the prince parried. Changbin hisses, taking multiple steps forward and going on the offensive. He spins to land a harsher blow, Yongbok stumbling back at the unexpected attack.

He didn’t think Changbin would know how to fight. He _is_ a farmer. Is he?

Yongbok had his doubts, and Changbin looked the part. Though even a wolf in sheep’s clothing can’t hide its claws.

To test his suspicions further, Yongbok swung his sword, Changbin ducking or dodging each swipe effectively, quick on his feet and parrying each attack that successfully hit. The screeching argument between the two swords rang in Yongbok’s ears, watching Changbin carefully with narrowed eyes after he takes a step back, taking a stance and circling each other with a quiet huff.

“You know how to fight,” Yongbok says with a nod, Changbin grimacing at the lingering pain in his back. Good thing the guards flogged him. He could only _imagine_ the farmer’s capabilities at his fullest. “Impressive for a normal farmer.”

“Sometimes we have to protect ourselves from bandits.” Changbin huffs, furrowing his eyebrows. “And wild animals.”

Yes, that was an excuse. A damn good one, at that. But Yongbok didn’t think that wild animals or bandits needed fancy sword skills to fend off. Surely, no farmer would ever learn how to fight properly in the middle of the country. Unless they also wanted to fight the barley.

Using this moment’s distraction, Changbin kicks Yongbok back, air getting knocked out of him as the freckled prince landing backward into the dirt. He blinks up, trying to scramble to his feet before Changbin points the sword down at him with glare.

Changbin didn’t move, and neither did Yongbok—well, Yongbok couldn’t even move. If he did, a sword would lodge into his throat.

Yongbok wouldn’t admit it, but he breathed out a sigh of relief when Chan gripped Changbin’s wrist, yanking him backward and disarming the farmer. Or rather—’ _farmer.’_ By the way Changbin stared down at him, it wouldn’t surprise him if the shorter killed him then and there. But he didn’t put much of a fight against Chan, yanking himself away from the older’s grasp with a scoff.

“I know this village is under the protection of Baekje,” Changbin mutters, narrow eyes never leaving Yongbok. He dusts off his earthy handbook, clenching his fists. “But we’ve done fine without royal interference for years. We’ve paid tribute, we survived without guards. You threatening and harassing us without at least an explanation makes you no better than the bandits that live around here.”

When Yongbok didn’t answer, Changbin hesitates before bowing, taking back his basket of radishes and leaving the two.


	5. | IV |

Yongbok rarely held grudges.

A prince shouldn’t hold grudges.

His trainer has beaten him in combat many times before and not once did Yongbok ever reprimand him or have him punished or followed. He didn’t even _think_ bitter thoughts about his trainer.

He knows how to be a good sport when he loses playful combat. There was no need to kid around just because he’s lost.

However, this wasn’t a childish matter.

So when Chan offered to kill Changbin or stick him in their makeshift prison again, even flog him. Yongbok seriously thought about it. He had firm evidence that Changbin might be the spy they were looking for: he could fight exceptionally well; threatened Yongbok, even if it was subtle; he cared little about their statuses, if they came from the palace or not. But then again, those exact points could be used _against_ his suspicions.

Maybe he really _did_ learn how to fight to fend off animals and bandits. Maybe Yongbok was looking too far into his words. _Maybe_ he only dismissed their status because he felt threatened by the guards’ rash behavior. After all, wouldn’t an actual spy try to _hide_ their true selves instead of playing right into their enemies’ hands?

It was still enough for Yongbok to continue on (this was their only lead). So, no, he didn’t end up locking Changbin into the shed again. Besides, what good was a spy inside a shed? He’ll slip up one way or another in the village.

_And_ the fact that Changbin’s dismissive behavior was the slightest bit entertaining to Yongbok—enough that the prince didn’t have him killed, at least. Besides, if it turns out that Yongbok just had an innocent man killed, he’ll have... What _will_ he have? A terrified town, a bad morality, a disappointed king? He was unsure about the last part, but all he knew was that nothing good will _ever_ come out from killing the innocent.

So Yongbok let him go.

Until the next day.

This time, he asked that Chan (or any other guard) leaves him alone. He feared that _maybe_ he just seemed too threatening with guards at his side, so opted to walk on his lonesome. Though he didn’t do so without eyes on the back of his head, his ears alert, and his sword close. He was practically throwing himself within the herd of sheep, among wolves in their clothing. However, if it meant for the betterment of the kingdom, then yes, he’ll gladly throw himself to the wolves. He thinks.

Around morning, he couldn’t find Seo Changbin anywhere. Not that Yongbok was actively seeking him. Just that the supposed farmer was at the top of his watch list. And that anything he did was suspicious under his supervision. Of course, the freckled prince continued to keep his eyes open for anything suspicious around the town, though there was nothing. Everything was mostly silent. No news about any spy, no suspicious activity, no crimes, or some other.

When lunch rolled around, Yongbok thought it’d be nice to take in the environment. Maybe a quick picnic by himself? A small breather to help him get away from the suffocating village and the guards. Besides, he was hungry enough for his mind to wander from the current mission at hand.

And what harm would eating by himself bring? _Sure,_ the guards might panic at his sudden disappearance and _sure_ , eating out in the countryside, _alone_ , wasn’t the best idea ever but—hey, Yongbok could never do this back at the capital. He also desperately needed alone time when this entire mission was a pain in the ass and a constant headache.

The surrounding countryside was pleasant, at least. Barley wove gold into the field, a golden quilt before Yongbok’s eyes as he sat under the few trees that sporadically grew throughout the field. It provided him enough shade from the sun, though having just enough overhang that the freckled prince could still see and appreciate the sea of blue overhead.

Not a cloud in the sky.

Not a bother, not a thought, not a tick on his shoulder.

Honestly, Yongbok wouldn’t mind staying here forever. 

“Yah. What are you doing here?”

But they didn’t welcome him with open arms. Kind of expected from peasants toward the nobles. But what could Felix do? He was but a humble prince. He couldn’t do much to change the hierarchy, if anything at all.

“Taking a break.” The freckled prince hums, glancing up at the individual that stood over him, narrow eyes under the shadow of his bamboo hat, holding a scythe in one hand and a basket in the other.

At Yongbok’s feet stood a black hound, old with the corners of his mouth crinkled, its forehead too. He probably helped them hunt during his prime, however, instead helped look for herbs and such in his later years.

He paws at Yongbok’s boot, before nosing at the prince’s scabbard, Changbin edging him away with his foot to keep the old dog from hurting himself.

“You’re suspiciously not with the rest of your group,” Changbin mutters, Yongbok scoffing at that.

“Oh, _I’m_ suspicious,” the younger sneers, though waving the older off. “Just go back to whatever you were doing. You didn’t need to lecture me when I wasn’t even bothering you.”

Changbin scoffs, gesturing to the prince with the scythe. If Yongbok wasn’t so focused on the sharp-chinned man, he’d have taken that as a threat.

“You are.”

“Let me guess. I’m an invading rat who’s ruining everything in your humble village.” Yongbok crosses his arms with no intentions of giving into the pathetic wishes of the farmer. Seriously, what was this man’s problem? Yongbok thought he’d want to be left alone, and he _did_. He doesn’t _actively_ go out and ruin the farmer’s day unless Yongbok required. He doesn’t spit acid and bark out of spite, he doesn’t mock or ridicule anyone. But apparently, Changbin had _some_ sort of bitter _problem_ against Yongbok, enough that he had to search actively for conflict.

“Yeah.” Changbin frowns, shrugging nonchalantly with a nod before gesturing to the prince again. “But you’re sitting on herbs I need to harvest.”

Yongbok sits up with eyes darting from the farmer to where he sat, a few green leaves peeking from under him, probably begging the freckled prince to get off of it.

“Oh.” Yongbok scrambles to his feet, grabbing his scabbard as Changbin huffs out a breath of a laugh. He guessed he was just overthinking things. It wasn’t hard to when practically everyone in the village is a potential suspect. And not to mention the two got off on the wrong foot to begin with.

Changbin crouches where Yongbok previously sat, using the sickle to cut a few herbs, working quickly and efficiently to leave Yongbok alone.

The young prince perks up, glancing down to see the old dog pawing at his boot, his old tail sagging and struggling to wag as he glances up at Yongbok. The freckled prince smiles, crouching and rubbing the old dog’s forehead with his fingers.

“Why are you still here?” Changbin asks, Yongbok perking up, the latter clearing his throat and separating himself from the old dog before he ends up stealing it. “Shouldn’t you be out and about and... doing whatever the _fuck_ generals do...”

“I should.” Yongbok shrugs. He _should_. But was he going to? No. He wasn’t the actual general, anyway. The general was back at their camp, ordering around the soldiers and guards and probably looking for Yongbok.

But then again, why would a king send the prince—his only son? Who’s alive, anyway. And he could do jack shit, leaving all responsibility on the guards. As long as he sat back, waved his hand for approval, he’d get all the credit for this mission in the end.

So Yongbok made no motion to leave, only picking himself off the floor with a sigh and staring down at Changbin.

Changbin was an... _interesting_ character. Someone Yongbok has never encountered before (in both ways, he’s seen no one _like_ Changbin and because they’ve only just met).

Yongbok has always been curious as a child. He remembered playing with his brother a lot, climbing the wall just to see what was on the other side, hiding in the garden, and finding all the ways he could hide from the handmaidens in there. However, as he continued to stare at the farmer, it seemed as if Changbin himself was only rekindling that snuffed out curiosity from his childhood.

The older huffed, audibly too, as he stood up and walked away with the sickle and the basket.

The freckled prince followed Changbin, almost like the old dog that padded behind the farmer—though a little more enthusiastic than the old mutt. 

Yongbok needed to follow Changbin one way or another sometime this week, anyway. So why not have a personal approach by outright walking behind him, even if it didn’t take long for the farmer to whip around and flare at Yongbok.

“Hi,” the younger says with a smile, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes shining in the sunlight.

“Go away,” Changbin barks, before turning back around and walking faster. It only made the freckled prince work double-time, skipping after the farmer as he made his way across the barley field. “Why are you following me?”

And honestly! Why _was_ Yongbok following some poor farmer?? It confused him as much as Changbin. Why did the older think that _he_ had an answer when he couldn’t even provide one for most of his actions? Was it because of his mission? Was it because of curiosity? Or maybe it was because of his childish brattiness that wanted to always be a leech at the farmer’s side, always making his life miserable one step at a time.

Changbin ran—Yongbok too, like the old dog that regained its energy to keep up with the farmer.

The farmer eventually had enough of the freckled prince’s shit as they came to a halt by a field, whipping back around to the latter with such a menacing frown that Yongbok could almost slink back at. Changbin was intimidating, yes, built like a guard though looking like a bandit. However, in no way did Yongbok ever feel threatened by the farmer. Especially not when he had the old dog distracting him with everything it did!

“Fine! Follow me all you want!” Changbin yells, the other farmers at the field glancing at them warily before returning to their work. They’ve never made a good first impression on the village, anyway. “Just don’t bother me, for fuck’s sake!”

“Just pretend I’m your shadow,” Yongbok says. Changbin raises the sickle with a breathless scoff, disbelief on the tip of his tongue. He rolls his eyes, walking further into the field before stopping at another, smaller plowed land. Crouching by the plants, he uproots the radishes that grew a little quicker than the rest to keep it from getting ruined, placing it into his basket. He did this for the rest of the field, glancing over each plant to see if they were ripe enough for the picking.

Yongbok wondered if he could ever live like this. If, one day, he wakes up as a peasant instead of a prince. Would he live to last a day? Probably not. After all, palace life pampered him to grow up as a king all his life.

However, a part of him hoped that, _maybe_ , yes. He _could_ try to live like this. No, not as a farmer uprooting radishes. He meant contently.

Could he ever live like this? Working hard, life beating down on him. But he was content with what he worked with, what he produced, and made for himself. That he had control over what he held in his hand and what he didn’t. What he produced and what he thought of. Not exactly abdicating his status as a prince, but making his own decisions as... well... _his_.

He’d be wrong to say he’s unsatisfied with his status. He was—everyone would covet for the status he had. However, what others wouldn’t covet is the limited freedom Yongbok had. He was no better than the dog following the farmer. Maybe even worse.

“Can you—“ Changbin hisses, glancing back as the freckled prince leaned over him. He arches an eyebrow, eyeing the younger curiously as he takes multiple steps back as a peace offering, smiling so innocently. Changbin accepts it without another word, returning to his work.

Until Yongbok shuffled closer.

“Okay— _back off_.” The older huffs, Yongbok pressing his lips into a thin smile. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Yongbok shrugs, Changbin dusting his hands off as he glances up at the taller with an arched eyebrow. “I’m just bored.”

“Is that it?” The older scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Is that why you’re all staying over at the village, terrorizing because you’re _bored_?” the older shoots up to his feet to level with the latter, Yongbok frowning.

“No,” the freckled prince says. “We’re _actually_ here on official royal business. Believe it or not, it’s up to you. I only said I was bored to satisfy you with an answer.”

“What official royal business?” Changbin narrows his eyes. He leans away with knitted brows when the younger leans forward with a smile, cooing and shaking his head teasingly.

“It wouldn’t be official or royal if I told you, wouldn’t it?” Yongbok waves him off, Changbin rolling his eyes.

“Whatever it is, do it quickly and leave us alone,” Changbin scoffs, picking up the filled basket and walking back across the field, the dog, and Yongbok, right at his tail.

“You’re funny,” The prince says, skipping along the barely visible dirt track that weaved through the field, back toward the village and such. “If you want us to leave so badly, why are you making my job harder?”

“If you want me to help, why don’t you tell me?” Changbin retaliates.

“Yah! I told you it’s official _and_ royal!”

Changbin turns on his heel, Yongbok bumping into him with wide eyes.

“Then you shouldn’t be bothering me about it then. Goodbye!” Changbin yells, striding into his hut and sliding the door shut.

See? Changbin _was_ interesting.

It’d be a shame if he _really_ turns out to be the spy. Yongbok thought he was entertaining. Probably the most entertaining man he’s ever met (though that wasn’t saying much when all who stuck around him were stone-faced eunuchs and guards no better than sticks in mud). Though the more he conversed with the man, the less he thought of the possibility that he’s working against Baekje. Actually, the more he conversed with the man, the less he thought of the reasons he was even there in the first place.

Just the mere disregard of the prince’s status was enough for Yongbok to forget about the mission—that he was a prince in disguise as a general. And honestly, that was dangerous. Seo Changbin was a dangerous man.

But Yongbok _couldn’t_ help himself. That danger was so filling, so... _lively_ that he could feel his childhood almost come back to him. When the days were short and he enjoyed the palace—being the prince to the people who needed him.

But then again, anything could happen. Who was to say Changbin _wasn’t_ a spy or murderer or anything of the sort?

“Yah!” Changbin bolts out of the door, pointing furiously at the freckled prince before the younger could walk away. He continued advancing on the taller, who could only helplessly stare at him wide-eyed, the farmer pointing threateningly at him. “You need to help me.”

“I—excuse me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late! I forgot to send the chapter to my editor : V


	6. | V |

Okay so, Changbin _wasn’t_ a spy.

First, the man was too much of a loudmouth to be a spy. He _should’ve_ spilled around this time. He was also too outright with Yongbok that it was endearing—he couldn’t be a spy if he could outright disrespect Yongbok without a fear for his life (wouldn’t a spy try to take up on his good side to avoid any suspicion?)

Second, his parents disappeared, rather, kidnapped, by the _actual_ spies who _also_ told Changbin not to tell anyone else lest he wanted them dead. And of course, the dumbass didn’t even waste a second before running out of his hut and telling the first person he saw.

A guard announced another guard’s arrival at his tent before he enters, Yongbok glancing up at the report he intended to give to the king once they return. So far, it’s full of one failure after another.

These spies were doing their jobs well. Besides the fact that Yongbok figured out that there were four of them, all thanks to the note left to Changbin at the disappearance of his parents. A shame, by the way.

“Would you like us to patrol the village tonight, your highness?” The guard asks with a bow, the prince waving him off.

“If you think you’ll find them tonight, knock yourself out.” Yongbok shrugs. “I doubt it, though. These spies wouldn’t come out unless they had a reason to. Besides, you’re all making yourselves obvious. Why don’t you all dress like commoners tomorrow and see if there’s anything that sticks out?”

“Yes, your highness.” The guard bows low.

“Oh, also, call for Bang Chan, please,” Yongbok says, settling the brush onto the table as he waits for the ink to dry, rereading the statements and claims he had made on the sheet of paper.

He has an idea. No, he didn’t agree to help Changbin with finding his parents—that was _his_ problem. Besides, just as the older said, they should just stay out of each other’s way. Changbin isn’t helping him, so why should he help Changbin?

But he _still_ had an idea. See, Changbin (unfortunately for him) told him about the note left by the spies. That they took his parents intending to meet him for... _reasons_ neither of them knew of.

The scholars taught Yongbok back in the palace that a successful king was an opportunist. To take each opportunity and form it into an advantage. And fate practically served this damn opportunity to him, courtesy of Changbin. Maybe the farmer was more helpful than Yongbok took him for.

Well, he doesn’t _actually_ know that Yongbok was taking this as an advantage. But that’s what great kings did. They fight in the war before it even begins.

“Bang Chan is entering, your highness!”

Yongbok glances up, eyes wide as a dark, curly-haired guard enters the tent with a bow.

“Your highness,” he says, Yongbok humming as he straightens the stack of papers, settling it aside with a huff, staring up at the older.

“You’re accompanying me to the outskirts of the village,” the freckled prince says, the guard staring at him with knitted brows. He knows that this was _completely_ out of the blue and most likely dangerous as—well, he’s a _prince_ pretending to be a _general._ Either social status was dangerous, flinging around so carelessly. However, _hopefully_ , with a guard, he’ll be a little safer.

Of course, he didn’t know how _much_ safer he’ll be with a recruit, but at least Bang Chan was a... somewhat trustworthy guard. Well, Yongbok didn’t trust him much more than the eunuchs, but at least he wasn’t so suffocating to be around.

“If you’re willing, your highness.” Chan clears his throat, frowning. “Could I ask why?”

“I have a lead.” The freckled prince hums, gesturing to the guard. “Oh. And give me your clothes.”

**—-**

There was nothing wrong with the general uniform Yongbok wore. The material was much rougher than what he was used to, but it wasn’t too harsh. It was a little easier to move in; it had great breathability. The color was pleasant too, a deep shade of blue, menacing yet graceful to represent the power of the kingdom.

Sure, a loose thread or two bothered the freckled prince, and it was a little itchy around the collar, but it wasn’t anything Yongbok couldn’t handle or would complain about.

But if he were a spy or an enemy, he would go after the one with the _higher_ rank first. Unless the lower rank got in the way, but Yongbok knew that he wouldn’t be sacrificing himself for anyone anytime soon.

Even so, he commanded Chan to switch clothes with him. In a way, the freckled prince was disguising his disguise, more so for his peace of mind instead of an advantage. They wouldn’t reveal themselves, however, the freckled prince would rather be safe than sorry.

Though at this point, he thought that _they_ were in the wrong.

Yongbok was absolutely sure that this was the right place, at the right time. Unless he had been mistaken—after all, he asked Changbin to read him the letter _twice._ But maybe he was just getting old, maybe his memory betrayed him, he’ll give it the benefit of the doubt and say it was _his_ mistake.

But he digresses. He guessed they’ll be waiting for a few more hours.

Felix wondered how a guard could have so much patience. How not even an itch could make them antsy. And he knew he shouldn’t be complaining since Chan didn’t speak up, but the complexities of a guard just compelled him.

For example, they _must_ think that the way royalty treats them is unfair. Anyone would think so. But is their trust, their commitment real? Or is it just a facade to keep up since being a guard also provides them food and shelter—a family too, between other guards?

How long could they keep up with the insults from generals, the disregard of royalty, the disrespect of the nobility? Were you born or molded to be a guard?

That goes for princes and kings.

Was Yongbok born to be a king? Or did he need to be molded?

The two perk up from their spot behind the bushes and trees, glancing around as they heard rustling from the other side of the clearing. They see a familiar dark-haired farmer, using a torch to light up the empty glade.

And from the shadows, another commoner walks out, turning to Changbin. Chan sits up, gripping his scabbard and ready to unsheathe the weapon until Yongbok held up a hand, examining them through the bushes.

They clearly knew each other, from the way Changbin’s eyebrows arched and how his pointed finger faltered at the man. And the man smiled, nodding and gesturing to Changbin.

“You’re here,” he says, Changbin frowning.

“I didn’t think—you— _why_??” The farmer sputters, still stricken down at the sight of this familiar figure.

“Look, Seo Changbin, I know we’ve known each other for a while, but I don’t want to kill you. I didn’t want you to be a part of this either.” He sighs, holding out his hands in some obscure gesture, walking around Changbin.

“You kidnapped my parents, for fuck’s sake!” The farmer exclaims in disbelief. “I trusted you!”

Ah, so Changbin had no idea.

“Believe me when I say _that_ wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was part of the plan,” the man says. “But you have to do something for us.”

Changbin arched an eyebrow. Yongbok too, he was way too invested into this to let Chan attack. Part of the plan? And Changbin seems to be friends with him too. That meant that this spy had been living in the village for quite a while.

“There are rumors that his highness, the prince, is here. In the village,” he explains, Changbin scoffing. Of course, there would be rumors about Yongbok. He didn’t mind, not at all. He just needed to figure out which guard spilled his name—what punishment would be appropriate?

“That’s absurd.” 

And it _is!_ So absurd, that it actually worked.

“I thought so too, but the guards, I heard them say it themselves,” he says, leaning forward and placing a hand on the farmer’s shoulder. “Capture him and give him to us. For your parents.”

Ah. So that was the plan. Or rather, an improvised plan from what Yongbok was hearing.

“What?! No!” Changbin yanks off the hand on his shoulder, pushing the spy away. “You’re asking me to kill the prince?!”

“Well—possibly not kill, only capture him. But, in exchange for your parents, yes.” The man frowns. “Changbin, I never wanted this. But we had plans. Big plans, this was just too sudden. I really didn’t want to include you in this—”

“Include me in this—” Changbin lets out a breathless unamused sputter. “The fact that you _lied_ to me after trusting you! And now you’re asking me to kill the prince—it sounds to me you’re only asking me and the village to take the blame for his death. To make us your damn scapegoat!”

“That’s not it—”

“Really? What is it then?!” Changbin barks, almost throwing the torch at the other. Before the spy could reply, Changbin hisses, shaking his head. “Actually, say nothing. If I could, I would kill you. I’ll find my parents myself.”

He jumps back when the spy tried to make a movement toward him, holding up the torch threateningly before taking a step back, running off to the darkness where he came from.

And _that_ was tragic. Yongbok was always all for a good tragedy—sometimes walking through town with Seungmin, he would hear storytellers in the main square. And usually, they’d never have enough time to hear all of it, but Yongbok could catch a line or two. If he was lucky, they would repeat the same story weeks after, and he’d be able to piece together what happened.

This was kind of like that. Clearly, there was so much more to learn about this tragedy. This was merely two lines: two friends who _thought_ they knew each other only for one of them to betray the other. And it surprised Yongbok that Changbin didn’t lunge at that man and choke him to death. But maybe the tragedy’s climax was still on the way. Even so, Yongbok wondered what Changbin would do next. If it was up to him, he would’ve killed the prince to get his parents back the simple way, or killed the spy.

And Changbin still has _zero_ clue where his parents are. The farmer would have to just pick a random trail and stick to it, which would take—what? How many years would that take? And if he _does_ decide to go on a goose chase, not even God could help him.

This was, indeed, a tragedy.

“What should we do?” Chan turns to the freckled prince, arching an eyebrow as Yongbok continued to stare at the spy who didn’t move an inch from his spot on the glade.

“Kill him.”

**\---**

Changbin frowns at the first sight of Yongbok outside his door first thing in the morning. The prince was standing right at his gate, hands clasped behind his back, a smile playing on his lips. It was early morning, the sun barely peeking from its slumber as Changbin stepped out of his hut with a basket of straw. Yongbok expected the older to at least flash him a glare, so he opened his mouth to ready his speech.

Until Changbin walked past him, down the dusty road that weaved throughout the village.

“Yah! Aren’t you going to ask how I’m doing?” Yongbok exclaims, walking after the farmer with quite some distance between them. He didn’t run or chase after him though, that’d make him look desperate. And honestly, he could go himself. _Why_ he even consulted Changbin, he didn’t know. But hey, he was here now. He might as well make use of his time.

Changbin didn’t answer, and Yongbok would be lying if he didn’t feel his confidence falter a bit. Only a little minuscule bit, though.

“Yah, Seo Changbin.” The freckled prince tries again, walking a bit faster to catch up with the farmer’s tempo. “Listen to what I have to say for a second, will you?”

“I don’t have time for this!” The farmer barks back, probably waking up his neighbors by how loud they were being. “Leave me alone!”

“Wait, a minute! Wait, a minute!” Yongbok says, blocking the farmer. The older tried to step aside, only for the other to step with him, blocking him each way he tried to push past the younger. Changbin arches an eyebrow, biting back an insult as Yongbok smiles at him. “I decided to help you.”

“Why, do you want something from me?”

“I _do._ “ There was no use to lie. Yongbok learned that most of the time, the truth benefitted the situation more. Of course, sometimes it was better to lie when conflict and all odds were against him. For example, if he was tied up and caught with a sword pointed at his neck, and his captor was to ask if Yongbok knew anything about... royalty riches? Any secret plans? Whatever, _anything_ of the sort, Yongbok would definitely lie. But then again, because of his status, he probably dug his grave a little deeper. In that case, Yongbok would strike up a deal. Barter with his captor, hoping he could save himself. Selfish, he knows, but a king’s words were much crueler than his sword. “But, I also have something _you_ want.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, though intrigued at the proposition, halting any actions to resist against the prince.

Yongbok pulled out a sheet of folded paper, holding it up in front of the farmer with a cheeky smile.

“Unlike you, I know where to start,” the younger says, a murmur combatting that of a river. He had to be careful. After finding out that one of the spies was Changbin’s longtime friend, Yongbok realized that anyone— _anyone_ could be a culprit. And while the villagers were barely waking up, Yongbok still felt wary of the eyes and ears embedded in the village.

“How could I trust you?”

“You don’t _have_ to. But do you really have a choice?’

‘’Where did you find this?”

“A little bird told me.” No, Yongbok would probably never say that he eavesdropped on Changbin and the spy, killed the spy and searched his body for any clues. Besides, it was probably unimportant. Again, a king should take opportunities and weave them into an advantage.

Changbin narrows his eyes, still suspicious at the freckled prince. Yongbok understood. Besides, nothing would really change if Changbin agreed or not. But did he feel bad? Maybe. Was Changbin entertaining? Yes. But he still didn’t know if Changbin would agree or not. This was one of those times where a king just had to shoot in the dark.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Lee Yongbok, now is that enough?” The freckled prince hums, Changbin arching an eyebrow as the younger holds out a hand, expecting, convincing, hoping. Waiting. “Let me help you, help me.”


	7. | VI |

“Are you sure about this?”

No. But a king, though cool-headed, was entitled to risks every once in a while. _That_ was how opportunities sprouted.

Besides, it’d be better if it was just him and Changbin. Having the entire company would only slow them down and expose their location. None of the spies actually know that the two were going to the location (and they would know since the messenger, the spy that was Changbin’s friend, died of “ _natural”_ causes). _And_ Yongbok didn’t quite trust any of the guards yet.

“Of course. Are you questioning my decision?” Yongbok questions, arching an eyebrow as Chan perked up, shaking his head.

“No, Your Highness, but...” they both turn to Changbin, who waited on a horse that Chan graciously got him ways away, arching an eyebrow at the two as they turn back toward each other. “If His Majesty learns about this—“

“Changbin doesn’t know I’m the prince, yet. And it’ll stay that way,” Yongbok murmurs, clearing his throat and flashing a smile at the curly-haired individual. Yongbok decided that Chan wasn’t half-bad. He was a guard, yes (an awful one, but a guard nonetheless), but he had that sense of normality Yongbok couldn’t find anywhere else. It wasn’t apparent, but Yongbok could still see it there. Between the tough front and the respectful dialect, there was a sense that he treated Yongbok like a—well—a human being. “Besides, I’m the one writing the report to the king, aren’t I? I could always make up some events.”

So Yongbok flashes a smile toward the individual again, a silent reassurance that he’d be fine, before climbing onto his horse.

“I don’t know when we’ll be back. But I’m pretty sure that if we’re gone for more than a month, that means we’re dead,” Yongbok says, turning to Changbin. “If the guards ask where I am, tell them I’m investigating privately.”

Yongbok and Changbin spur their horses into a walk, turning away from Chan as they begin their journey together.

“Your high—“ Yongbok immediately turns his head back toward Chan, running toward him, eyes wide as the guard clears his throat with a cough, making a gesture to bow apologetically before halting. Luckily, Changbin didn’t seem to notice, barely stopping his horse to turn back toward the curly-haired guard. “Your—uhm—your sword. Take mine,” Chan says, Yongbok arching an eyebrow as the older already made way to untie Yongbok’s from the saddle and replace it with his own. “If anyone sees your sword, they’ll see that you’re someone important.”

“Ah, yes.” Yongbok smiles, nodding. “Thank you, Bang Chan.”

And Bang Chan smiles at him. Nothing grand, nothing special.

But it still felt real. 

**\---**

Yongbok wasn’t a stranger to the wilderness. Sometimes, back in Ungjin, he’d lead hunting parties with other guards. He understood the rules of traveling with company, knew what he should and shouldn’t do setting up camp for the night. And he knew how to backtrack if they were to get lost.

However, the open countryside proved to be a lot more of a challenge than the compact mountainous capital. Without a multitude of guards looking out for him, they almost felt vulnerable during their trek across the plains, like sheep straying from their flock.

They were sort of in this gray area—where they were _technically_ within Baekje territory. However, it’s too far from the mainland that it might as well be Gaya’s. It meant that this area was much more prone to danger.

Imagine that, though. A prince so far from home, a fish out of the water. No one knew who he was out here, not even the companion he traveled with. He only told one person about his whereabouts— _implied_ about his whereabouts. So if he were to ever... disappear, he’d disappear forever, which is to assume that his father doesn’t look for him. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. Either way, it won’t change the fact that this dangerous territory.

He and Changbin departed from the village a day ago. While they’ve made tremendous progress toward their goal, it was a bit... Yongbok would describe it as _unbearable_.

Traveling with Changbin was a chore. No, they did little other than ride their horses in one direction, and they talked little—but the _fact_ that they didn’t talk much almost made Yongbok grow crazy. He was all for complete silence during travels, but this was just ridiculous.

There was something in the air that the younger just couldn’t put his finger on—contempt? Tolerance? Silent threats? Changbin and Yongbok didn’t _exactly_ get along. No surprise there.

And it didn’t make it any better they didn’t have an exact location. They only had the name of a town—a town southeast of Changbin’s village, into Gaya territory. Again, Yongbok, a prince, unknowingly going into Gaya territory sounded a lot more harmless than it actually is.

See, if anyone found out he was a Baekje prince, he’d be done for.

“Yah. If you’re just going to sit there—” Yongbok jumps as Changbin drops the pile of sticks in front of him, glancing up and staring at the farmer. Changbin rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips as he gestures to the freckled prince. “Look, I get that you don’t have guards under your thumb, but you can’t expect me to do everything.”

“Why not?” Yongbok smiles at him, to which Changbin scoffs.

“Because I’ll leave you out to die if you don’t help me.” Changbin crouches, already leaning the sticks against each other in the beginnings of a campfire. The sun still halfway across the sky, but they haven’t really settled since their departure from Changbin’s village. Sure, they had breaks, but no amount of breaks could attest to their much-needed camp for the night.

“Alright, what should I do?” Yongbok huffs, picking himself off the dirt and dusting his hanbok off.

“First, we need food. We brought little provisions with us.”

“You want me to hunt?” 

“Is that a problem?” The farmer arches an eyebrow, Yongbok scoffing and clasping his hands behind his back. Is there a problem? Yes, there is.

Yongbok didn’t think the farmer would continue to look down on him like this. Did mothers not do their job raising children out here in the countryside?? Yongbok was already helping Changbin. What more could he want?

But sure, he’ll indulge Changbin. He’ll show Changbin’s that he _wasn’t_ a good-for-nothing royal. That he’s something more than spoiled riches. So he takes his bow and quiver from his horse, shooting a quick glance at the farmer. Changbin continued to pay him no mind, trying to get a fire going.

Yongbok waits no longer, breaking from the beginnings of their camp and out to the field.

He found little during the first hour. There was a fox or two, but Yongbok didn’t think the fox would be very appealing. He had searched for something north of their camp, only to realize that it was continued grassland and south of their camp, but there was nothing there. It was as if God had specifically retracted all animals on this day. To what? Make Yongbok’s life harder? Because he wanted entertainment? Well, when the second hour rolled around, Yongbok was _not_ having fun.

Finally, though, he noticed something scurrying by the border of the nearby forest, crouching and carefully making his way toward the bounding ball of energy right next to a tree trunk.

Yongbok raises his bow, pulling the string back and aiming at a rabbit that halted and sniffed the air. And before it could break into a sprint, Yongbok had shot at it, hitting the poor animal—but hey, at least the two wouldn’t starve for tonight.

And Yongbok smiled—he felt real joy coursing through him as he jumped to the rabbit, tying its feet together and immediately returning to their camp.

By the time Yongbok arrived, Changbin got the fire going, and retrieved enough sticks from the forest nearby to last them the night, set out their minimal things around the fire, boiling a pot of water over the fire and even led their horses to drink from the river.

He currently stood by Yongbok’s horse, patting the beast as it drank the murmurs of the river. He didn’t notice Yongbok at first, standing by the fire, holding his bow in one hand and the rabbit in the other. But Yongbok didn’t call for him either.

Only stood and examined the older, how he focused on taking care of the horses, how he didn’t really mind that the edges of his hanbok grazed the water. Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, where nothing mattered, not even their ranks, how they contrasted with each other. Their clothing: Changbin wore his simple commoner’s hanbok. A charcoal, earthy color while Yongbok wore the guard’s outfit he borrowed from Chan. It wasn’t as fancy as the General hanbok he had before, but it still practically yelled to everyone that he was a guard from miles away.

Their mannerisms. Changbin looked like he worked hard on everything he did. Even if he was merely taking the horses to drink, he patted them while they did so. He stood for something. Everything he did stood for something. Whether it be for survival or for his own morals, he continued to do something with great pride and sureness. Yongbok didn’t know where to find that sureness. What did he stand for? Royalty? The kingdom? Its people? Or did he stand by his own morality? Even if he did, what was that? A prince who couldn’t pick out his purpose? Yongbok could only laugh.

He perks up when he noticed Changbin turning to him, holding up the rabbit with a sheepish smile that the older enthusiastically returns.

“Yah! Look at you! You actually know how to do something!”

**—-**

Yongbok didn’t think that hunting such small game could bring so much fulfillment into his life.

Well, Yongbok received no satisfaction after hunting with the guards. It was supposed to be some sort of entertainment, but Yongbok never found the appeal in chasing down deer. He was more of a fisher.

However, the moment Changbin congratulated him, how he smiled teasingly and took the rabbit from the younger...

It made him feel needed—even if it was nothing but a mere rabbit. That he could do something more than sit, order people around, and look pretty. He wasn’t just making decisions by the sideline, but he was actually _doing_. He took part in this, despite his status.

But out here, status didn’t matter. Out in the country where it was borderline Gaya, where prince, or general, or farmer or merchant didn’t have a schism between them. Not out in the wilderness.

“You don’t seem like a general,” Changbin mutters from across Yongbok, the crackling fire separating them. The younger glances up, arching an eyebrow at the older.

They were well into the night, having eaten and cleaned most of their belongings before retiring. Changbin sat against the dead tree that hung over the murmuring river, while Yongbok merely sat upright, trying to find the best way to finish a report without breaking his back.

“Why not?” The prince asks. Changbin had spoken up first, much to Yongbok’s disbelief. There was nothing but silent conversations of the night and the campfire before the question spilled out. And while Yongbok didn’t mind, he didn’t think Changbin would ever speak another word to him after his praise earlier in the day.

“I don’t know—” Changbin shrugs. “You look so fragile.”

“Ah, do I?” Yongbok huffs out a laugh, settling the brush and rotating his wrist. He then gestures to the farmer. “Why, do you?”

“No. But shouldn’t generals have a fierce front to intimidate? You just don’t have that. You’re not intimidating.” Ah, so was that why Changbin never felt threatened at Yongbok’s presence? Because he wasn’t “intimidating enough.” That should appear offensive, really. A prince not being intimidating enough? Does that mean he was too soft? Did anyone take Yongbok seriously?

“Wit over brawn.” The prince shrugs, humming. Changbin didn’t speak after that, the crackling of fire filling the silence that settled between them. But Yongbok could still feel the older watching him, staring with curiosity? Disdain? Whatever it was, he didn’t look away, and only when Yongbok lifted his head to glance at the farmer, did he speak.

“What are you writing?”

“A report,” Yongbok answers. “For the king once I return to the palace.”

“I still don’t get what you’re looking for.” The farmer scoffs, sighing as he leans further against the tree. “I thought it was something in the village. But you’re going out of your way to help me, so... Now, I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, you’re giving me something in return.” Yongbok smiles at him, the older arching an eyebrow.

“Which is?”

“I don’t know.” Really, Yongbok knew this was an opportunity to execute the rest of the spies. He’ll be encountering them _and_ helping a local farmer with a good deed—killing two birds with one stone. However, he couldn’t say his mission to some random farmer in the middle of nowhere Baekje-Gaya. Yes, they were in territory where not even rank mattered, but he still had his dignity and orders. “But I’ll think of something.”

And there’s nothing Yongbok could possibly want from Changbin. Riches? Tribute? Labor? The farmer was nothing but that. A humble _nothing_ in the countryside.

But Felix still helped him, still let him tag along.

Who knows? Maybe Yongbok will think of something, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are literally halfway done with this fic y'all :000
> 
> I told y'all it would be short LMAO
> 
> -Ly <3


	8. | VII |

As a prince living under his father, Yongbok didn’t expect to live very long. He expected that an assassin would come for him eventually (maybe to exact revenge on the king or for some other reason, Yongbok didn’t know). Or maybe he would grow old within the confines of the palace, living miserably so. Or _maybe_ his people would overthrow him for being such a horrible monarch.

Either way, the monarchy already planned every moment out for Lee Yongbok. There were only brief moments of freedom he could have.

However, what he didn’t expect was to wake up with a sword pointed at his face.

He tries to reach for his own, but his hands were free of anything—they were bound, actually, behind him as he glances around.

At first, Yongbok thought this was Changbin’s doing. He could _totally_ see the farmer betraying him like this. After all the rebuttals the two have gotten into, it only surprised Yongbok at how long it took Changbin to snap.

But glancing at his side... Nevermind, Changbin was tied right beside him.

“Yah! Yah!” Yongbok exclaims when the group of bandits ravage through his belongings, ignoring his yells and profanities. No, Yongbok had nothing special or expensive on hand. He knew better than to bring even a minuscule fraction of the palace, so he kept it a minimum, except for the money he brought along for supplies. 

But still! It was quite rude for people to go through others’ things without consent.

“Shut up, will you!” One of them barks back, Yongbok scoffing at him and turning to Changbin, who shrugs.

“I’m just a simple farmer, what more can I do?” he asks, nonchalantly. It bothered Yongbok how Changbin _wasn’t_ bothered by this situation at all. They were bandits, for crying out loud! Just parasites that steal off of people who work!

“Yah! Put that back! Yah!” Yongbok yells when the bandits throw the sheets of Yongbok’s report to the river, damaging the articles to unreadable messes as the water ravaged them. Well, there goes his _only_ responsibility.

“Hey!” Yongbok groans as he scrambles to his feet, swinging his leg and kicking the bandit closest to them. Before the man could recuperate, Yongbok kicked his head into the dirt, stumbling back when another bandit tries to lunge for him. Yongbok glances at Changbin, who shrugs at him, before breaking out into a sprint, the other bandits chasing after him with swords and sticks.

“Seo Changbin!” Yongbok shrieks, turning a corner around a fallen tree, jumping over it to continue running. Yongbok had never been so grateful about running his entire life—running from his responsibilities, the handmaids, the scholars. It’s trained him to this day. But when Changbin didn’t answer his pleas for help, he thought that maybe he had to take this into his own hands—as much as he can with them bound behind his back. And it’s not like he could run forever!

“Seo _Changbin!”_ Yongbok cries again, running back to their campsite. But the farmer was nowhere in sight. “Help me!!”

Yongbok stumbles over his feet, catching himself before he hit the dirt. Even though the bandit was right as his tail last time he saw, he jumps at the sound of swords clashing, scrambling away. He turns to see Changbin—that good-for-nothing farmer who _only_ stepped in now that he got his fill of entertainment, fighting back with the bandits, swords clashing. There two against him, though despite the unfairness of the fight, Changbin continued to hold up his own.

Of course, Yongbok couldn’t do much but stand and stare. He, after all, still had his wrists bound behind him.

“Changbin! Behind you!” Yongbok calls out, the farmer noting the younger’s warning and ducking under a sword before it could contact his back. He swipes his sword at a bandit’s legs, successfully slashing his knees as he cries out in pain and falls backward.

Changbin finished him quickly; merciful in his fighting, Yongbok concluded. And when he makes eye contact with the other bandit, the latter scampers away. For the better too, but Changbin doesn’t chase after him. Instead, huffing at the helpless prince staring up at him.

Yongbok scurries to his horse saddles, trying to push open a bag he tied to his saddle to check if anything else got stolen, specifically the royal insignia he chucked in the bottom of the bags (he was supposed to wear it to signify his status, however, left it off when he hid as a general).

“Aren’t you going to say _‘thank you’?”_ Changbin asks Yongbok, the younger feeling a sword carefully cut through his ropes.

“Oh, yes, yes—” Yongbok says, trying to keep his wrists apart to help the older. Though he continued trying to look through the bag. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Hold still, will you??” Changbin huffs in frustration, almost cutting the younger when he takes a step forward with a gasp.

“Where’s my... where’s the fishing rod?” Yongbok gasps frantically, eyes going wide as he walks over to the other side of the horse to check, ultimately dragging Changbin with him lest the older wanted to slice his hands off.

“Yah! Stay—”

“He took the fishing rod!” Yongbok exclaims, arms flying to the side when the ropes fell from his wrists.

“Okay, now that’s over. Let’s get—yah! Lee Yongbok! Yah!!” Changbin yells as the freckled prince mounts his horse and immediately chases after the thief that escaped. He wasn’t too far out, the silhouette of the thief coming into view as the sun rose above them. Yongbok reaches for his bow, loading an arrow and stretching the string back as he aims for the dirty dog.

When the bandit notices Yongbok after him, he breaks out into a pathetic sprint, which all culminated for nothing as Yongbok shot him down.

Yongbok curses him as he jumps off his horse, yanking the fishing rod from the man’s grasp (and the royal insignia that he also stole). He knew to respect the dead, but he couldn’t help but kick the corpse for stealing such a precious thing from him.

This fishing rod was his everything—the one thing that connected him to his past and present. The one thing of his fantasy childhood he refused to let go. The one thing that made him so happy. One he should’ve let go years ago.

“What was that for?!” Changbin asks him once Yongbok returned to their campsite, trashed and kicked to dirt because of the attack. “It’s just a damn fishing rod! Why even hunt him down when he already surrendered?!”

Yongbok quietly hides the insignia deep into his bag once he dismounts his horse. He couldn’t have Changbin finding that too. But he stares at the farmer who returns the glare with knitted brows as he dusted himself off the ground, having picked his stuff up from the dirt.

“Why did it take you so long to help me?” Yongbok retaliates with his own question, the older rolling his eyes.

“Like you, they bound me! While you were being chased, I needed to cut myself loose!” The farmer barks back, shoving the sword to the taller’s hands, who stumble back at the unexpected force. “I believe this is yours. At least learn to use your sword.”

He glares before fixing his saddle, readying everything for their travels. Yongbok sheathes his sword, turning too so he could also ready his horse before they head out.

But he couldn’t help but wonder if Changbin was a little annoyed that Yongbok just left him behind for a fishing rod. After all, Yongbok had been to suggest that they go together, and even though losing Yongbok would benefit the farmer, from a survival standpoint it would only hurt him. After all, they were _just_ attacked by bandits. Imagine if they were by their own lonesome, without the other. Surely, they’d be dead by now.

“It’s special to me,” the prince says, carefully pushing the fishing rod in the space between the saddle and the horse. “It’s from my brother.”

“Geez, just ask him for a new one.” Changbin sighs, scratching his head in frustration, though his voice was a little warmer than earlier. “Like I said. It’s just a fishing rod. How hard is it to make a damn fishing rod?”

There was a quiet silence, Yongbok clearing his throat.

“He’s gone.”

“Oh...” the taller could almost hear Changbin turning around to face him. But the older didn’t move from his spot, instead halting his hands as they closed the saddlebag. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” Yongbok shrugs, nonchalant with a light laugh. “It’s in the past, anyway. And you’re right. It’s just a fishing rod.”

Yongbok turns around, facing Changbin. The taller smiles small at him, though the latter failed to return the warm gesture.

“Let’s just go. We still have to look for your parents.” 

**—-**

“Pay you—like hell, we’ll pay you!” Changbin yells, the trader scoffing as he waves Yongbok and Changbin away.

“Then you won’t get information.” He shrugs, the farmer tightening his fists in frustration before letting out a noise between gritted teeth.

“You snake!”

“Look, how much do you want?” Yongbok asks before Changbin could cause a scene. They didn’t want to endanger themselves. This was a town on its own. Where statuses didn’t matter and morality was spat upon. It was ruled by greed, and honestly, if Yongbok thought about it—charming cunningness too.

“Five silver bars.” He hums, Yongbok sputtering. That was basically _half_ of their leftover money. Not to mention, the trader looked like a crook himself—this was a bad idea, wasn’t it? But then again, what other choice did they have?

“This is ridiculous,” Changbin mutters with crossed arms.

“This is a big town, sir,” the trader says, leaning over the table that held his wares as he smiles crookedly. “You could just try to _ask_ the entire town.”

“Do we have the time?” Yongbok questions, Changbin turning to him with knitted brows and a frown. “I don’t think so...” With a sigh, Yongbok pulls out five silver bars from a pouch (which the bandits miraculously didn’t take), handing the money over to the trader heavy-heartedly.

“Thank you for your business.” The trader smiled brightly, Changbin rolling his eyes. “So this is what I heard.”

“Heard? You’re saying we paid for a rumor?” The farmer scoffs, to which the trader waves him off.

“There are a few men that stayed over at the inn the other day. Ones that you specifically described, at least.”

“Did they have two people with them? A man and a woman?” Yongbok asks, to which the trader shrugs.

“Can’t say. Unless you’re willing to give me another five—”

“We don’t have time for this. We’re going,” Changbin says, grabbing Yongbok’s hand and dragging the younger away. The prince yelped at the unexpected yank, stumbling the first few steps as he caught up with the shorter. “That snake! I swear to God he’ll be in a world of pain if he lied.”

“I’ll be right there with you.” Yongbok shrugs as he slipped his hand away from Changbin’s.

**\---**

The inn was empty. Completely empty. When Changbin and Yongbok arrived, the innkeepers informed them that the group they were after left already, camping up north.

While they finally had a lead, thing was, if they continued on, they would run out of supplies. Yongbok insisted that they stay for a day and stock up, while Changbin argued that they should continue going, for they’ve already lost time.

While Yongbok would usually disagree, he went with Changbin’s plan: to raid the spies’ camp instead. They should have some supplies if they found it. But then again, they _are_ going on a whim—if they don’t find that campsite, they would be in trouble, hindering their search _a lot more_ than it did now.

But Yongbok had faith—somewhat.

Only for the world to throw that faith out the window, trampled by horses and set on fire, even.

They found the camp. The camp was easy to find, being next to a river and all. There were remnants of supplies, a campfire pitifully snuffed out with dirt. And to say they were disappointed was an understatement.

Their targets left, disappeared to who _knows_ where. At this point, it was a wild goose chase, and if they continued down the path, they either get _extremely_ lucky or stray further from their goal. Of course, already have taken a risk, Yongbok didn’t think Changbin would continue.

But as the older glances around, sighing and jumping off his horse...

Yeah, he wouldn’t give up very easily.

“We can use this camp for tonight,” Changbin mutters, bitter and quiet that Yongbok almost missed it. The sight was upsetting, Yongbok admits. They were close, they both felt it. But they still had one more turn. And inevitably, the wrong one could lead to their deaths, or worse, an _absolute_ waste of time.

But Yongbok didn’t want to give up now. He couldn’t go back to Ungjin, to his father. He couldn’t face him with the threat of failure. Besides, this was his first mission outside of the capital. How pathetic must he be to fail this too?

“Well, let’s get started then.” Yongbok stretches, jumping off his horse and leading both of their companions to the nearest tree, tying their reigns to a low branch. “Do you think they’ll come back?”

“Sure, let me just call them.”

“We could at least search for something that could give us a hint to where they went,” the freckled prince says, offering the farmer a smile. “Maybe go back to the town tomorrow?”

“What choice do we have?” Changbin asks, glancing away. “You were right, we should’ve stayed in the town.”

“We couldn’t have known. The best thing we can do _now_ is to settle and think of our next move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's finally going to be a Changlix bonding moment next chapter :000
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of speeding up the updating schedule to update twice a week because I want to focus more on my new Minsung story "Playing Among The Stars." I know I said this book was short, but since this updates on Tuesday, and the other story on Monday and Wednesday, I don't want to overwhelm my editor. So might as well finish it quickly, idk. 
> 
> So, I'll most likely post another chapter this week :) I don't know what day though 
> 
> Much Love <3 Ly


	9. | VIII |

Yongbok felt a little bad for Changbin.

Not because he was a farmer, living on the minimal joys of life, or because he’s threatened by the loss of his parents. Not because he wore muddy clothes or worked in the sun all day or otherwise. He didn’t feel bad for their differences.

He felt bad because Changbin looked... vulnerable. Human.

Ever since they’ve met, Changbin had been nothing more but a prick at Yongbok’s shoulder. It’s almost safe to say that the older might be the most reckless farmer in the universe; confidence personified.

As if he was a lost soul, confused, and accidentally chosen the wrong job. A person like him should be _anything but_ a farmer.

But Changbin is, despite Yongbok thinking otherwise.

He’s done nothing but bark, snap, and scoff, dismissing Yongbok in every way possible. Changbin showed no vulnerability, even if he protected those he loved or limped from being beaten. He didn’t _act_ like a farmer. More like the village’s personal guard; his emotions indecipherable to avoid vulnerability. And not that Yongbok was saying it was a bad thing, necessarily. It just made Changbin an oddity in the prince’s eyes. It made him curious.

And even last night, when they sat quietly around the fire, the older staring at the flames, Yongbok staring at him—the curiosity. He looked vulnerable, human.

They said little, nothing at all, if anything. But the way Changbin plays with his fingers, the way he slouched and blinked furiously after staring for a long time, muttering something under his breath the prince couldn’t quite hear—the curiosity. _He_ was a curiosity.

The morning came, and Yongbok was the first one up. He’s usually the second to wake up, not by his own devices, but because Changbin kicks him awake, sometimes even throwing a stick to wake up the younger. But today—it was silent. Changbin was silent.

Yongbok woke him up with a smile to at least liven the older’s miserable life up a bit—he felt bad for the older. But the way Changbin stares blankly at him, doesn’t smile or frown or otherwise, Yongbok felt bad for Changbin because he was a curiosity.

Yongbok suggested he go into town and ask for more questions while he made their breakfast. The older agreed silently, and after washing up in the nearby creek, set off to the village.

Leaving Yongbok alone at their camp. 

Taking his fishing rod, he waits by the creek for Changbin and fishes. He doesn’t know how long he stayed there for. One? Two? Three hours? How the hell was he supposed to know? Whenever it came to fishing, he always lost himself in the simplicity of it.

It was the earliest thing he knew. He considers himself knowing how to fish before he learned how to read and write. To him, it was basic knowledge, integrated into his mind that it was almost like an unnoticeable necessity such as breathing or blinking.

People don’t notice how many times they inhale, exhale. They don’t purposely notice how many times they blink—just like fishing to Yongbok.

His earliest memories come from fishing, actually. When his brother taught him one obscure summer day, where the crickets never cease their singing and the air was almost always humid. When the faceless crown prince skipped all of his classes for the day just to spend time with his annoying little brother to _fish_.

Now that Yongbok thought about it, it was stupid. Fishing was stupid. He was stupid to fish and continue to do so. But a habit resists change. Just like breathing, blinking or otherwise, they were necessities.

“I didn’t know you fish.” So lost in the ripples of the creek and the soft murmurs of the river, Yongbok didn’t notice Changbin’s return. His horse nickered as he jumped off her back, patting her side as Yongbok returns to the water.

“Well, there are many things you don’t know about me,” He said with a shrug. “And there are many things I don’t know about you. So, me fishing shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“Right, but you...” Changbin clears his throat, Yongbok feeling his presence come closer, almost standing behind the freckled prince. “You’re a general. I didn’t think people like you had time for trivial hobbies.”

“People like me have nothing but time,” Yongbok says, staring down at the water. He tugs on the fishing rod a little, trying to appeal to the fish that even avoided him. It was ironic, really. The one thing he confidentially excelled at seemed to fall onto its head as Changbin stood there. Like he was only embarrassing him the longer he sat here. The longer he cursed at the Gods for abandoning him in his time of need.

“Where’d you learn?” Changbin asks, taking a seat next to the younger with a huff. “To fish, I mean.”

“My brother, when we were still kids.”

“Guess your brother’s as weird as you.” Changbin huffs out an amused puff of air. “Don’t kids usually play with kites or tops or whatever? Not fish.”

“Well, we weren’t like the other kids where we lived.”

“Where _did_ you live?”

The palace, Yongbok wanted to say. But even though it would only give away his status, the reason he truly didn’t answer was because the palace didn’t seem like a home. Sure, he slept and ate and did everything there. But why would he consider it “living” when he felt more like a prisoner than anything?

And surely, his brother felt that too. Surely, Yongbok didn’t feel so alone in that thought. But Changbin couldn’t know. He’s a farmer. He wouldn’t understand.

“In the capital.” Yongbok clears his throat, glancing at Changbin warily. But the older didn’t seem to mind the vague answer, acknowledging how awkward it must be between them. They didn’t have many genuine conversations, and when they did, it usually ended up with words lost and forgotten questions, filled with tense air and the feeling of wanting to forget they even asked.

Usually it was a mutual back and forth, like they’re doing now. Nothing has changed.

And what else could they talk about, anyway? Clearly, Changbin was only doing this to break the ice or pass the time as they waited for their breakfast.

They weren’t awkward with each other because of their status. Out here, they were awkward with each other because they weren’t friends. Couldn’t be, actually.

“I’m sorry about that comment I made about your brother,” Changbin murmurs, the freckled prince perking up at his sudden apology.

“Well, you didn’t know. And I already forgave you. So it doesn’t really matter.”

“I know, but... I guess you really cared about your brother for chasing after a fishing rod. In hindsight, it was kind of silly.”

“I... don’t know.” Yongbok shrugs, Changbin tilting his head in confusion. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen my brother, he might as well be dead at this point. One day he just... disappeared. Without a word, with nothing else. The last thing I remember is him teaching me how to fish.”

A pause, and Yongbok continues on. 

“I’m even wondering to if he was real. If those memories were just a figment of my imagination to make myself less lonely.”

Changbin doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. Yongbok didn’t expect to be so honest with the older today, or tomorrow, or _ever_. But it felt nice for someone to know, even if it wasn’t the complete story. And there was no punishment for Changbin to know. Out here, the country, the forest, it was just them two.

No princes, no generals, no farmers or guards.

Just Lee Yongbok and Seo Changbin.

“I... Well, even if he wasn’t real, at least you felt enough of a connection there.” Changbin smiles, soft and reassuring. Human. He felt human. “Out here in the country, everyone is out for themselves. I’m lucky enough to be part of a village that looks out for each other, because really, if we don’t, we’d be gone long ago.”

Yongbok could only scoff, turning to Changbin.

“Where I’m from, I can’t even trust the men I command. The officials or guards or scholars. You’d think that the threat to this kingdom is Goguryeo or Silla. But it’s really within the kingdom, within the palace.” Yongbok sighs, running a hand through his hair. “At least you could control what you want to do, what you want to be. You’re living for you, not for other’s expectations.”

“Do you... Why don’t you just run away?”

“Because I can’t.” The freckled prince turns to Changbin. “I have a duty and a purpose I can’t run away from. The best I can do is suck it up and grow up already.”

And if he ran away, what would his brother even think of him? He’d think Yongbok was weak who couldn’t take the throne because his anxieties got the better of him. His brother would also want for him to grow up, to face the real world. To stop dwelling in the past that Yongbok himself doubted.

“Aish.” Yongbok sighs, yanking his fishing rod back when he couldn’t even get a nibble. He guessed today was just an unlucky day. “Let’s just hunt. It’ll be faster, at least.”

As Yongbok gathered the line and wrapped it around the rod, Changbin continued to stare at him, not really moving from where he sat beside the freckled prince. When the latter glances at him, a thousand words flashed through his eyes.

Words that Yongbok didn’t want to hear. Empty words of reassurance he knew he didn’t need. He didn’t want Changbin’s pity, and he wasn’t searching for it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll excel at it,” Changbin says, awkward and unsure. But it was enough for Yongbok. At least it wasn’t a sappy statement on how Yongbok didn’t need to grow up and take his time. Because clearly, he shouldn’t take his time. In the world they lived in, it was a hustle, nothing ever stopped for anyone. “Anyway, I found a clue. From the innkeeper. She said that before those men left, they left a note for one of their comrades. She thought it was us and gave us the message.”

“Then let’s go,” Yongbok murmurs, dusting his clothes as he picks himself off of the ground. He smiles at Changbin, bright and... somewhat real. He still didn’t know. But even if it was real or not, it still felt like a small connection that tethered him to Seo Changbin. A farmer and a prince. That smile that warmed up their relationship even a little, though Yongbok knew that after all this was over, they’d never see each other again, much more graze each other’s thoughts.

But Yongbok holds out a hand for him to take anyway, to help him off the ground. Because out here, in the country, in the forest, there was nothing that separated them. No titles, no status, no morals.

And Changbin understood that, thankfully, huffing out an amused puff of air as he holds onto the freckled prince’s hand, and allowed him to help him up.


	10. | IX |

Changbin was quick to shush Yongbok, the older glancing around warily from their spot behind the bushes and trees. Though when nothing came around, Yongbok only sighs and turns to the farmer with knitted brows.

"I don't think—"

"Hold on." Changbin shushes him again, the freckled prince rolling his eyes. Standing up, he sheathes his sword, scratching his head in frustration.

"There's no one coming," he mumbles, glancing around the forest, nature incessant on her songs and conversations. It wasn't windy, however, the forest still murmured between each other; birds chirping, the rustling of leaves, or the chittering of animals overhead, scampering from one tree to another. It didn't, however, conceal the whines and sighs Changbin let out as he accepted that, yes, they were only getting their hopes up for nothing.

"You sure we're in the right place?" Yongbok asks.

"The path leads here. It's not really specific, but either we stay or leave and go some place else."

Well, if they left for another obscure spot in the forest, they could miss their targets. But then again, if they stayed, their targets might have never even gone in their direction. It was a tough choice, especially when the forest didn't exactly have any considerable landmarks. Just trees, rocks, slopes, and bushes as far as Yongbok could see.

However, the note mentioned _one_ thing: a river. He and Changbin traveled by the river to this spot, just past another town and well into Gaya territory, just as the note specified—or at least, as much as it could.

"What do you think?" Changbin asks, throwing the freckled prince off-guard at the question. Changbin asking him for his opinion?? Yongbok might as well take up farming at this point.

"Well..." Yongbok stammers, glancing back at their horses then to the older. "I think we should stay in this spot. But it's your call, really."

They've gone far enough with Changbin leading their two-man team, Yongbok didn't need the older to pass the reigns to him. Honestly, Changbin was an excellent leader. There wasn't a doubt Changbin could take care of himself, but Yongbok was sure leading was where he shined best. Even if he was a restless bitch most of the time.

He had drive, Yongbok gave him that. It's what separated him from the regular guards or generals Yongbok's seen—and this man is barely a farmer. It must say something about their soldiers if Yongbok preferred the farmer.

In all honesty, Yongbok had forgotten how long they've hidden here. Because of nature refusing to provide them fish for breakfast, Changbin decided that if they moved then, they could quickly catch up to the spies. This was the meeting spot the note specified. Or as close as it could be—it was pretty vague, to say the least.

Yongbok would say that they've waited at least six hours, give or take. Hungry, tired, and overall bored. On Yongbok's part, at least.

At least they stayed close to the river, the freckled prince breaking from Changbin to fish, again. He didn't want to leave Changbin, but he was hungry. If nature didn't provide them provisions earlier, maybe she'll be nicer six hours later, right? Besides, if trouble ever came their way, Changbin would surely call for him, yell or anything.

What surprised Yongbok though, as he sat by the river bank, was to see Changbin sit beside him with a frown.

"I don't think they're coming this way," he huffs with a shrug. "Either we overshot it, or they've gone already."

"Who knows, maybe they'll pass by." The younger hums. "But don't worry. I'll get us food soon enough."

"That went well last time." Changbin scoffs. "You sure you know what you're doing with a fishing rod?"

"I do, I wouldn't have risked my life for a fishing rod if I didn't." Besides, Yongbok could've asked ten other dozen fishers to create a fishing rod better than this; one a lot for comfortable to hold without having to slouch over with a longer line, hopefully. But he stayed with this memorabilia, with the back pains and all.

"I don't know, maybe it was just expensive and wanted to get your money's worth."

"This _is_ my money's worth," Yongbok says. "My brother made it. No amount of money or riches or royalty could amount to this useless pole." Changbin nods with a hum, glancing to the water as the freckled prince turns to him, "Why, you don't believe me?"

"No, no, no." The farmer shakes his head furiously. "It's just that... You don't seem too much like a general. I mean, you have soldiers under your thumb, and you have the strict orders, but... Something's missing."

"Why? What's missing?" Yongbok asks. He didn't think he'd ever get "general" advice from a farmer. But then again, generals were highly different from princes, so Yongbok could learn a thing or two if Changbin knew what he talked about. He guessed that higher classes wouldn't understand what's below them, while the lower class could only imagine what's above, for they could look up at the light. "I think I'm a good general."

"You lack intimidation." Changbin scoffs, smiling and laughing that Yongbok couldn't take any offense. But did he? Was he doing it wrong the entire time? "I don't think anyone is going to listen to you if you either don't have respect or intimidation."

"Why, how could you know?" Yongbok tilts his head in confusion. Again, those thoughts about being an undercover spy suddenly popped into the prince's head. But he guessed it was only his never-ending paranoia coming to bite him in the ass again.

"Well, small villages out in the country act like little kingdoms, themselves, don't you think?" Changbin hums, leaning back on his palms. "We're on our own, ruling ourselves, but still under the territory of the larger monarchy. There are the leaders, then the head of the families, then us, the farmers, peasants, commoners, and whatnot."

"So, you're telling me, that your leaders intimidate and threaten everyone under them?" Yongbok huffs out a laugh. 

"No, I don't mean it that way. They don't intimidate anyone, but we respect them because they do things for the village the others wouldn't usually do. If not intimidation, it's the respect that keeps us all under check. If not, we'd all be on each other's throats."

"So, what if it's just a matter of duty?" Yongbok murmurs, the older humming. "It's something that intimidation or respect wouldn't change."

"In my opinion, it would." Changbin turns to Yongbok. "See, if I was a soldier under you, and you respected the soldiers, be a leader that they would look up to by doing something admirable, selfless, yet humble, I would lay my life for you."

Laying your life for someone... That was an absurd thought, wasn't it? Surely, no one would actually lay their life for someone else. Everyone had selfishness living within them, and no matter how little, would act up. In most people, their lives are the most important thing they have. While their way of _living_ might differ from their wishes, their _life_ itself might outweigh everything else. Surely, no one was willing to give _that_ up, no matter how much pigheadedness or selflessness someone had.

In the face of danger, everyone turned into cowards, hesitated, and give into their own needs, instead of someone else. It was just the world they lived in: everyone was out for themselves, no matter a prince, a farmer, a general, a soldier, a merchant, or some other.

"I know it doesn't sound much, coming from a farmer like me. But it's food for thought."

Yongbok guessed that it was. Changbin as a farmer, yes. Someone who's lived out in the country his entire life without even a hint of a clue to palace life or what it's like being a soldier. But he guessed that living out here, where nothing mattered, social status or wealth, taught him more than Yongbok ever did within the lonely gates of the palace. Those useless mumbles coming out of the scholars' mouths were nothing more than just that, Yongbok knew. Maybe that's why his father sent him here, to learn himself. If Yongbok didn't want to learn within the palace, he might as well throw his life out in the open, vulnerable to the dangers of the forest to get at _least_ _one_ lesson into his thick skull. But what, exactly?

Learning to be a king? Maybe that was too big of a dream, something that Yongbok couldn't possibly know _now_. Maybe start off small, the basics, like those of simple arithmetic.

What did it take to be a prince?

"Yah! Yah! Something's biting the hook!" Changbin hits his arm, the younger perking up and yanking the fish out of the water with the help of the older. They finally had their well-deserved breakfast, or rather, very early dinner, at this point. As it flopped around on the riverbed, Yongbok scrambles for it before it could return to the water, killing it mercifully. Changbin smiles brightly at him, jumping to his feet. "We've got food! I'll quickly make a fire. Good job!"

Yongbok stares up at him with wide eyes. Being praised for something trivial never sounded so rewarding. But it did, smiling at Changbin.

Though as the older runs off to get some wood, Yongbok gets to work with the fish on a nearby flat piece of a boulder. He never actually prepared a fish for someone before. When he catches fish, he usually returned them to the water. He didn't need to eat it when the cooks at the palace provided him with every necessity and more. And unlike humans, fish did nothing wrong; he returned it to the water so it could live the rest of its life peacefully.

But catching fish for someone other than himself... it felt nice, at least. Like he was reliving the days of his childhood, catching fish with his brother. To know that something so little, so trivial and considered such a useless skill for someone of his status, was appreciated... it felt nice. That all those hours at the river wasn't time wasted, if not for himself, then for someone at least.

He was too happy to even notice the stink of the fish, to grimace when he accidentally dirtied his hanbok. He was too happy to notice the leaves crunch behind him.

At first he had thought it was Changbin coming back with wood for their fire. Though as he turned his head, he fell back before a sword could make contact with his neck.

Scrambling back, he avoids all the swipes the masked assailant throws at him, reaching the river and rolling out of the way before he could get stabbed. Yongbok grabs a rock from the riverbed and chucks it at the man's face, yanking his leg as he falls into the river.

Yongbok tried to disarm the man, fumbling and thrashing in the water to get the upper hand. Though the stranger had grabbed Yongbok by the throat, his gripping tightly onto the freckled prince as he dunked his head under the water.

His attempts to kick the stranger off fails, scratching at the iron grip on his neck. He tries to lift his head above the water to get some sort of air, choking and hacking as water entered his lungs.

The man was too strong for Yongbok, his scratches, and thrashing about barely doing anything on him. And as panic settled in, and Yongbok felt his desperation clawing at his neck.

He didn't think this was how he'd bite the dust. Yongbok thought that he'd be assassinated, or rather, killed in warfare or an assault on the palace from the other kingdoms, well into his ruling term. Either he would be a bad or good king, Yongbok didn't think he'd die so young. At a ripe age of 19, by the river which did nothing wrong.

He knew he could die, yet he went on the mission with Changbin, anyway. He guessed he was stupid; to hell with learning something himself out here in the wilderness. What could he learn when he was dead?

He only wished he had given Chan their plans. At least, that way, his father would find his body. If he planned to look for it, in the first place. _Would_ he care anyway? All of their brief moments together, so brief they weren't even considered "moments," did they ever mean anything? Was he _something more_ than a prince and an heir of him? Of course not. Everyone, even sons, daughters, wives, husbands, are nothing more than pawns if they're under the throne. Including princes, princesses, and queens alike.

Could he have done something more to at least make his father smile? Be proud of him in his last breaths, which were ultimately being ripped away from him by the river.

Suddenly the pressure on his neck disappeared. Suddenly, the man fell into the river beside Yongbok as the latter shot up, hacking and coughing out water. His throat and nose burned, eyes watering as he heaved for the air his lungs wailed for.

"Are you alright?" Changbin asks, crouching beside Yongbok.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm—" The freckled prince tackles Changbin down, avoiding the arrow that shot at them. He scrambled to his feet, trying to run for his sword only to be blocked by another assailant—two others, one with a sword that stood before him, another with a bow strung and aimed at him.

Yongbok dodged the attack from the swordsman, jumping back, trying to look for an opening. 

With his back toward the flat boulder, Yongbok ducks under an attack, reaching for the fish he was cutting earlier and chucking it at the man. The stranger, taken back at the fish and guts on his face, stumbles back, frantically wiping it off. Yongbok, however, tackles him, reaching for his fishing rod and pressing it against the man's neck to choke him.

He hears Changbin groan in pain ways away, barely noticing the archer before a rock hit his head, the man under him pushing him off and scrambling away.

The world spun for a moment, black spots in his vision as he crawls to the river. The side of his head, where the rock hit, was on fire. He felt as if the stone had left a hole into his head, reaching up and wincing once his fingers graze the injury.

"He got you too?" Changbin sniffs, groaning as he crouches beside the freckled prince. Yongbok glances to him, the older wiping the blood from his nose, dipping his hands into the river. "Shit, your head's bleeding." He points out, Yongbok glancing at his fingers that came back with blood.

"Oh, I'm fine, really." Yongbok waves him off, grimacing when he gingerly cleans his wound. "Almost drowning was fun. Almost getting stabbed and getting hit by a rock was fun too. What about you?"

"Getting kicked in the goddamn face felt amazing— _fuck_." Changbin hisses, Yongbok pointing at the noticeable bruise on the bridge of his nose, blooming into purple blots with dried blood at his nostrils. Yongbok smiles, Changbin returning the gesture as the two burst into laughter. Why was Yongbok laughing, he didn't know. Even though he almost died moments earlier, he still couldn't help but feel as if they were just two friends getting into mischief, downplaying the actual danger they found themselves in earlier. "But you're okay, right?"

It felt unreal, really. To know that he could've died. Could've ended the Lee royal family line then and there. But he didn't. Changbin helped him. Seo Changbin saved him. Who knows what would've happened if the older wasn't there.

"At least we know we were in the right place." Changbin sighs, calming from his laughter. "We just needed to wait a little longer."

"And our food is kind of ruined," Yongbok says, gesturing back to the fish he threw at the attacker earlier, stepped on, and mushed against the riverbed. Poor fish, she didn't deserve that. The two fell into silence, staring at the murmuring river, their injuries still burning into their nerves, the situation finally creeping onto them. Though Yongbok turns to the farmer, "What now?"

"I don't know." Changbin shrugs. "They stole our horses, by the way."

"This week... is the worst." Yongbok huffs out a laugh, Changbin scoffing and nodding.

"You got that right..." he murmurs. "Shit... Why did it have to be them?"

"You recognize them?"

"Of course I do. They just showed up to the village, injured and humbled. There were eight of them, I only got close to one of them though, Jung Wooyoung. Four of them left, to who knows where, while the other four stayed. The village accepts anyone, so when they arrived and stayed with us, no one asked anything. We helped them without nothing and—they were good people. They helped the village with everything and never asked for anything in return. I never thought it would come to this..."

A pause and Yongbok turns to the farmer. "Can I say something?"

"Of course."

"The reason we're out here—why _I'm_ out here is because... Those people that we're chasing after, they're Goguryeo spies. The king sent me out here to situate everything, to get rid of them."

"Goguryeo spies?" Changbin arches an eyebrow. "And we were the ones who harbored them--"

"Well, you didn't know, so... It's not your fault," Yongbok says. "We didn't know until weeks earlier. At least you and the village accept the people who differ from you."

"Right, but it gets us into trouble, I guess. I mean, because we took them in, the crown is all over our asses."

"Right. But we'll be out of your hair once it's over." Yongbok smiles, perking up when he notices the stranger that tried to drown him, coughing and groaning as he comes to on the opposite side of the riverbed. Changbin had probably placed him there earlier to keep him from drowning. But then again, at least they had a new lead—a perfectly vulnerable lead. Yongbok smiles, watching as the man hacks and coughs and blinks furiously, trying to figure out where he was. "Speaking of which..."

Changbin arches an eyebrow at him, "Why, you have a plan?"


	11. | x |

“I told you already, I know nothing!”

“Yah! Shut up!” Changbin bites back, dragging the tied up man across the dirt, following Yongbok. “Because of you and your friends, we lost our horses!”

“Changbin’s horse didn’t even belong to him.” Yongbok scoffs. “And mine was a fine steed. I think you’d have to compensate for that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll pay you two if you let me go!” The man thrashes against his bounds, kicking the dirt, trying to find leverage against the dust and the pebbles.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Changbin asks, heaving the stranger up a few boulders with the help of the freckled prince. “I thought we were going to interrogate him?”

“We are.” The younger hums.

“Then where the hell are we going??”

“Normal interrogation will take too long, if it’ll work at all.” Yongbok dusts himself off at the peak of the slope, crouching to pinch the man’s cheek with a smug smile, pulling his hand away when the stranger tried to bite his finger off. “So, I have a shortcut.”

“Which is?” Changbin heaves himself onto the peak with Yongbok, gasping at the view below them. Though Yongbok didn’t come there for the view, no matter how thoughtful that might be. “Holy shit—“

“Just sit back. I’ll do all the work, don’t worry. Now.” The man yelps as Yongbok yanks him to his feet, grabbing the extra rope from Changbin’s shoulder and tying them around the man’s torso, binding his arms together tightly. “I’ll give you a choice here. You can either tell us where your friends went,” Yongbok tears a thick piece of cloth from the hem of his hanbok, yanking the man toward the edge of the cliff, glancing down. Yup, that was a big drop. Covered by trees, yes, but it wasn’t enough to slow his fall, _if_ he were to fall—Yongbok was sure he would by the time they were over. “Or die. Simple as that.”

“I told you! I don’t know—“ The man shrieks when Yongbok kicks him off the cliff, using the cloth to grab the rope before the man could fall to his death. That’d be a shame.

“I’ll ask you again!” Yongbok barks, the man glancing up and trying to find leverage on the slippery cliff side. “Where are your friends? What did they do to Changbin’s parents?”

“I- I don’t know!” The man cries out, Yongbok huffing as he let some rope slip.

“That’s a nasty fall! I’m not afraid to drop you, now!” the freckled prince barks. “I have about half a meter of rope left! We don’t have all day!”

“I- I—“

“Spit it out!” the freckled prince yells, the man on the verge of tears when Yongbok let more of the rope slip.

“Alright! Alright! Pull me up! I’ll tell you!”

“No! Say it!”

“His parents are back in the town north of the village, in an isolated hut! We were just supposed to get information and cross the border quickly! If anything, they might’ve gone there! Now pull me up!”

Yongbok hesitated. He should kill the spy here. After all, that’s what his father brought him out here to do. To kill the people trespassing and conspiring against the throne. There was no mercy to those who went against the monarchy. To establish order, there needed to be discipline and fear. Without an example, Goguryeo would only continue sending more spies.

If he had been the Lee Yongbok weeks ago, he’d have dropped the man without a second thought.

Though he could feel Changbin staring at him, sense his own hesitation. What would Yongbok do now? He doubted that the older would fully judge him, really, Yongbok could care less. But where would his moralities lay? Should morality even lay between decisions regarding the throne and the political stability of a kingdom?

“Yah! Yah! You said you’d pull me up!” The man yells, Yongbok huffing. Slowly, he heaves the man back onto stable ground, the stranger almost immediately bursting into tears at the feeling of dirt against his face. He shuffles onto his knees, staring up at the freckled prince. “Please untie me, I promise you two won’t see me ever again.”

“I never said I’d untie you.” Yongbok hisses, gesturing to the forest. “Not get out of here, before I change my mind.” 

**\---**

“I never thought you were capable of that.” Changbin hums, walking his horse beside Yongbok’s.

“Which part?”

“Intimidation, stealing horses, all of that. I thought you’d be loyal to justice to the very end.”

“I am,” Yongbok says. “But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“I still think you lack the intimidation with yourself. But at least you’re creative.” Changbin huffs out a laugh, Yongbok smiling at him. “But I still wonder why you let him live.”

“Why? Would you rather have killed him?”

“Not exactly. But I thought your mission was to hunt down those spies.”

“It is. But... I kind of understand what it’s like to place your entire mind and being into a mission. I mean, failure means punishment, right? And you said they were good people and helped those in need. Even though he worked with them, he also helped us. So... Even though he was only following orders, karma comes around, I guess.”

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy killing. Neither did he enjoy it at all. There was no intended malice to taking a life, it just had to be. And he knew, being a prince and all, he’d have to take lives. If not by his own hands, then his own decisions.

Maybe he did the wrong thing. Maybe he only made their situation worse. But the blame would fall on him, not the king, not the peasants, the guards, or Changbin. He, as the crown prince, would need to make his own decisions, and take his own faults. Nothing more, nothing less.

At the edge of the sword, the one holding it shouldn’t have bias. If it was a personal dispute, sure. But this wasn’t personal. None of this was personal. It was a matter of the good of the kingdom. If he wanted to establish himself as a merciless prince, like the monarchy before him.

The same argument could be made to the bandit he killed. _That_ was personal. Nothing more. It was Changbin that had the right to judge these spies. They’re the ones who did wrong by him.

“Is this place it?” Changbin asks, Yongbok perking up and glancing ahead.

Down the road, way past the town they traveled by, was a small hut in the middle of nowhere, quaint and unbothered. The shack wasn’t exactly in pristine condition, the roof almost looking like it would cave in any second. However, it still stood tall, with its decaying fence around its perimeter.

Changbin was the first to urge his horse into a quick canter, Yongbok following him shortly. The older didn’t even let his horse come to a complete stop to dismount the beast, entering the hut with a shout for his parents.

Yongbok expected to see him crying in joy, hugging his parents so diligently, a satisfying conclusion to their search. But—nothing. There was nothing here.

“I don’t understand. He said they were here,” Changbin mutters, breathless and glancing around the empty hut.

Well, it was simple. He lied.

And Yongbok had to take responsibility for his actions.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right,” Changbin says, pushing past the freckled prince as he looks around the hut for any sort of clue.

“Changbin—”

“This isn’t right! We’ve come this far!” He yells, furrowing his eyebrows. Though he almost jumps ecstatically as he recognizes a small company riding on horses ways away, four men and a woman, from what they could tell. So excited, that Changbin practically smacks Yongbok’s arm as points at them, “There! They’re there! Let’s go!”

He rushes to his horse, heaving himself onto the saddle. But before he could urge her to gallop, Yongbok stops him.

“Here,” the freckled prince says, handing the sword to the older with a small smile. “I still have a few arrows on me, I can protect you from behind.”

Changbin smiles at him, nodding before spurring his horse, Yongbok galloping right behind him.

It didn’t take long for them to catch up to the group, Yongbok readying his bow, fitting an arrow into the string as he points at a spy.

 _This_ was personal. It wasn’t a matter of orders or political stability. Yongbok aimed at them because of Seo Changbin. He was not only on this mission to hunt down the spies, but he also agreed to find Changbin’s parents. And here they were, sharing a horse as they rode with the spies.

Taking a deep breath, Yongbok shoots down a spy, falling off his horse dead while the others break into a gallop. Changbin and Yongbok chase after them, and while their horses were not as fast as the spies’, they could at least keep up, Changbin spurring his horse faster to land an attack. One spy held back and rode beside Changbin, unsheathing his sword to swing at the farmer.

Yongbok tries to shoot him down, however, instead almost hitting Changbin when the spy evaded the attack. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t help Changbin lest he wanted to shoot the farmer down, and he only had two arrows left.

He had confidence that the farmer could take care of himself. From what Yongbok’s seen, he was an exceptional fighter. Yongbok trusted him. He would be fine.

So instead, he rides ahead, spurring his horse faster to catch up with the other spy.

He aims at him, stretching the string back and—misses. Shit. He only had one arrow left.

“Heaven help me,” Yongbok mutters to himself, fitting his last arrow into his bow. He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the target, feeling his throat dry up. This was personal. This was for Seo Changbin, he knew.

Releasing the arrow, it missed the spy, however hit the horse, sending it toppling to the ground. The other horse that Changbin’s parents rode, continued on, frightened and spooked by the chaos happening around it. The couple, on the other hand, was as equally spooked, screaming and yelling for help, pleading for Yongbok when the freckled prince caught up to them.

“Calm down!” Yongbok yells to them. “Stop screaming, you’re scaring the horse!”

Well, at least Yongbok knew where Changbin’s stubbornness comes from, sighing when the parents continue on with their frightened yells and shrieks. But he gets it. A rogue horse was frightening, to say the least.

Halting his own in front of the parents’ horse, it comes to an abrupt stop; the couple falling off its back before it runs off again.

“Oh, God! Are you two okay?” Yongbok asks, jumping off his horse to check up on the Seos.

“I think I broke my leg!”

“Oh—okay, here—“

Grabbing his fishing rod, Yongbok runs to Abeoji Seo, crouching beside the couple. Though before he could tie the fishing rod to his leg as a support, Eomeoni Seo, shrieks out, “Behind you!”

Yongbok rolled away fast enough before a sword stabbed him, jumping back to avoid the many swipes from the Goguryeo spy that fell off earlier. A swing overhead, a duck under. An attack to his side, a side step.

He wished he listened to his trainers and actually built up his stamina. That’s the one thing he kept thinking about as he fought for his life—evaded, mostly, as he didn’t have a weapon on him. Though he couldn’t continue with the upkeep, the attacker was too fast. Yongbok _needed_ to think of something.

The attacker spun to land a harsher blow, Yongbok stumbling back and falling over. As a last-ditch attempt, Yongbok raised his fishing rod to hold off another attack—enough for him to scramble away.

He heard the bamboo snap between his grasp, a few splinters landing on his boots. The attacker thrusts his sword forward, the freckled prince crying out in pain as the weapon cuts his side when he tries to evade the attack.

He crawls backward, pathetic he knew. He was a pathetic prince, crawling away, injured. His hand stained red, he could feel how his hanbok uncomfortably stuck to his skin. And to think he would die by the river, drowning. He guessed that the world was out to get him.

But then again, he did this to himself. He was the one who wanted to help Changbin, it’s _his_ decision. Not the king’s, or the general’s or the officials at his side. The king ordered him to find the spies out here in the wilderness, but Yongbok had been the one to call the shots. And at this point, glancing at the Seos pleading for him to live, his own stupidity was the one who decided that helping Seo Changbin was first, while killing the spy second.

Was it worth it? He didn’t know. He didn’t think he’d live long enough to know.

But maybe, just maybe, he could rejoin his brother in the next life—reincarnated into something, _anything_. As long as he was with his brother.

He hangs his head in shame. Pathetic. He was so pathetic for accepting death so easily. What about the kingdom? What about his reign and the monarchy he would soon inherit?

He knew jack shit about ruling. What made him think he would last long, anyway?

He waits for the last attack, holding bated breath to feel the mercy of a sword.

“Yah! Lee Yongbok!” The freckled prince immediately perks up at the call of his name, the attacker falling to the dirt in a thump as a familiar dark-haired farmer came riding by, swinging his sword and landing a slice on the man’s back.

“Seo Changbin.” Yongbok tries to laugh, but it hurt. Everything hurt, feeling as if his entire side was on fire. He was on this sort of dizzying high, but the blood that slipped past his fingers yanked him back down to reality.

“Are you crazy?! You—you’re—“ Changbin runs over to the freckled prince, panting and crouching beside the younger. “Shit—you’re hurt.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, really.” Yongbok heaves out, turning so he laid on his back, staring up at the sky above. It was pretty. He never realized how beautiful the sky was out here in the country.

“Son, I don’t think your friend is going to make it.” Eomeoni Seo knits her brows, the dark-haired farmer shaking his head.

“No, he is, he’s tough, he can take a little cut, right?” Changbin tears the hem of his hanbok, bunching the fabric up and pressing it against the wound. “Just keep holding onto that, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Yongbok weakly nods, his vision spinning, black spots dotting his vision. He could barely register Changbin carry him, heaving him up onto his horse before climbing on. He could barely hear him ask his parents to ride Yongbok’s horse, barely feel the world bouncing as the farmer spurs the horse into a quick gallop.

“Let’s face it, Changbin.” Yongbok laughs, the pain throwing him into some sort of unregistrable drunkenness, each bounce from the horse making him feel like he would vomit at second. “I won’t make it.”

“You will, goddamn it. We’re near the village, remember? There’s a doctor there, don’t worry.”

Yongbok could hear the older’s voice in his ear, how hushed it sounded despite being so close to him. What did Yongbok say about protecting someone? How that giving your life up for someone was a loud of bullshit. Yet, here he was, dying, because he wanted to place Changbin’s needs before his.

He wanted to, though. He wanted to know the feeling of relating to someone, friends, brothers or otherwise. He wanted to know what it was like to care and be cared for, truly care, not because of some duty or job.

“Changbin,” Yongbok murmurs, reaching into his pocket for the royal insignia and slips it between Changbin’s fingers still over his own, pressing the cloth to his side. “When you bury me, give this to Chan. I- I—Tell him—that the mission was a success. Don’t give it to the general or any other soldier. And tell the king—“

“Yah, Yongbok. You can tell him yourself,” Changbin says, holding onto the freckled prince’s hand a little tighter. “Now hold on, we’re almost there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't know if y'all know about the Jisung situation, that recently came up about him saying the n-racial slur, degrading SEA, plus-sized people, and those with mental issues. It was a rap he made when he was 13, and I know that he was young and ignorant, but that shouldn't be a valid excuse. He was clearly writing a song with so much hate, as angsty teen. And I'm sure he's grown from that, he's an adult now. 
> 
> But as a SEA I was really hurt as what he put in that song. Like I looked up to Jisung because, sure, he's a S. korean, but he talked about Malaysia like it was his real home that us in SEA community basically accepted him as our own. I thought he was finally giving SEA representation. And I related to him so much because of his social anxiety that I also had to go through, and I thought he was so strong for pushing past it. I looked up to him. 
> 
> So hearing him say those words, it broke my heart. I know it was made when he was 13, but he still did it. And I know I'll forgive him if he releases a proper apology. But he NEEDS to release an apology, not only for the SEA but for everyone who he put down in that song. Not because I hate him, or have something against him, but because I love Jisung and want what's the best for him and the entirety of Skz. 
> 
> This, by no means, should validate people to hate on him, though. He was young, stupid, and hateful. If he owns up to his actions, it'll show he's matured and grown as a person. And as long as he educates himself properly and doesn't EVER do it again then it'll be fine by me. But don't hate on those who can't forgive him. Even I, as I'm writing this, I can't look at Jisung properly. It just hurts. 
> 
> But I just wanted to say something about this situation, I'll post something about it in my other book too :)
> 
> Much Love <3 Ly.
> 
> EDIT IMPORTANT: He VERY recently just released an apology. A full blown apology, not avoiding the subject. And I’m happy, so happy that our Jisung has matured so much :) it wasn’t a vague, kpop idol company apology, it was Han Jisung actually addressing the situation and trying to make up for his mistakes ❤️❤️❤️ and I forgive him


	12. | XI |

It’s a wonder how much someone could trust another within weeks.

It’s a wonder how much a person could long for interaction, enough to throw the question of morals or duty out the window—he guessed that humans were social beings, after all.

Friends? After all he and Changbin had been through, albeit short but meaningful, were they considered friends? Maybe. Then again, besides Seungmin, Yongbok didn’t know how friends should act or felt like. Seungmin didn’t know what friends felt like either, so they were never exactly _“friends.”_ They felt like they were from the same family (though related through marriage), if anything.

Though, again, the question of putting someone else’s needs before yours. Giving up your life to protect someone. Did friends actually do that? Or were they just fictional lines in stories?

In all honesty, when Yongbok opened his eyes he thought he was in the afterlife, almost forgetting everything that had happened prior.

He laid in a cot, his side sickeningly sticky with blood and bandages, still wearing his stained white jeogori. The ceiling was made of wood and straw, hearing the birds chirp and the dogs bark and the trees sing with the wind. This was definitely not the palace, and the _“bed”_ digging into his back reassured him of his thoughts.

He thought he had been reincarnated, in a village or some other. Maybe someone was waiting for him outside.

Though blinking his eyes, adjusting to the light, he hears murmurs past the thin paper door. He couldn’t hear much, if anything at all, though could almost recognize the rough voice.

Sitting up was a pain, literally. Each movement felt like he threw himself into a stack of needles, cursing as he held onto his side, though pulling away at the realization that doing so would harm him a lot more.

It was hard to breathe, and he feared that taking a deep breath would send his side to bleed again.

His eyes stung, his fingers felt numb. Even moving his legs sent some sort of prick into side.

Getting stabbed was just not fun. At all.

“Ma! I told you I’ll be there in a minute!” Yongbok turns to see the paper door slide open, a familiar short farmer meeting his gaze with wide eyes. “You’re awake!”

“What... What happened?” Yongbok groans, grimacing at his own ruined tone. “Where are we?”

“We’re back at the village. You passed out, but the doctor stitched you up well.” Changbin hums, placing a container of water beside the cot. He crouched beside the freckled prince, dipping a rag into the water, gesturing to the younger with an arched eyebrow. “Could you uhm... could you lift your shirt?”

Yongbok nods, allowing Changbin access to the bandaged wound. Biting into his lip to keep anymore embarrassing shrieks of pain from slipping out. Yongbok glances away, trying to distract himself with the birds he saw chasing after one another outside the window. Or the random hole stripped into the wood. Maybe the field he could see from—

“Ow! Fucking—Shit!” Yongbok yells, Changbin pulling his hand away.

“Sorry... I’ve never had to treat a wound before. But are you... Do you feel fine?” The farmer murmurs, the freckled prince feeling the ruined bandages unwrap around his middle.

“I mean, I got stabbed. So, I don’t know how much ‘fine’ is in this context.” Yongbok laughs breathlessly, groaning in pain when he felt the rag clean around the stitches.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick.” The older clears his throat. “But uhm... you’re okay, right? Besides the stabbing.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Mostly. It’s my first time getting stabbed, so I don’t exactly know how to feel,” Yongbok says. “Is your father’s leg alright?”

“It’s fine. Only a sprain, he’ll completely heal in a couple weeks.” Changbin gathers the clean bandages he brought in and tied a strip around the freckled prince’s waist before wrapping it around to his middle, covering the entire wound. Though he takes a breath, shaking his head, “I—Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my parents.”

“If anything, you saved me. I merely stopped a horse.”

“Right, but I expected you to...” Changbin shrugs. “Do your own thing and I’ll do mine. I didn’t think you’d chase after my own parents and... thank you. Really...”

“It’s fine, honestly. I mean, in hindsight, we almost had the same goal in mind, didn’t we?” Yongbok smiles, Changbin nodding timidly.

The farmer ties off the bandages, allowing Yongbok to relax back into the cot.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass to you,” Changbin says, staring down at the freckled prince.

“Well, I was kind of an ass to you too. And your actions were justified. I had no right to go to your village and terrorize the people here, you’re right.”

Changbin nods, his hands in his lap, staring at the freckled prince. Yongbok almost thought that Changbin had fallen asleep with his eyes open, lost, floating in his thoughts until the younger clears his throat.

His eyes were wide on the younger, so full of something Yongbok couldn’t pick out. He didn’t understand any of it, how much inexperience he had in this field. 

He could sword fight, shoot a bow, exceptional at martial arts, praised for his knowledge of language, arithmetic and the sciences.

But here, with Seo Changbin, none of it exactly mattered. He just didn’t know how to interact with a someone properly outside of any context regarding his duties or the palace or anything related to being a prince.

“You... I’m—” The two perk up at the door opening, Chan busting into the small room, and immediately falling onto his knees into a deep bow.

“Your royal highness! I- I was informed about your return and came rushing back and—” The curly-haired guard heaves out. “I’m sorry I didn’t know earlier!”

“What the fuck?!” Changbin sputters, Chan ignoring his gasp as he stared at the freckled prince. “Wait, wait, wait! _Your royal highness_?!”

“Changbin’s mother informed me what had happened. Are you alright?!” Chan cries out, bowing with his nose to the floor as Yongbok struggled to sit up.

“Hold on! Wait! You’re just going to gloss over the fact that you just said _‘your royal highness’?_!”

“Wait—Did I—”

“Everyone shut up for a second!” Yongbok yells, Changbin staring at him with furrowed brows and mouth agape. Though the freckled prince ignores him, gesturing to Chan. “Yes, I’m fine—”

“It’s my fault for not stopping you sooner! Please punish me for allowing such events to happen when I knew it’d be dangerous!”

“Chan—”

“And please, your highness, I don’t deserve mercy. Give the order, I’ll do it.”

Yongbok sighs, scratching his head at his own flustered face. He tries to avoid Changbin’s wide stare at the two and—never mind about Yongbok punishing Chan for nothing doing his duty as a guard to the throne, he should punish the older for his _idiocy!_ His identity was a secret, and it was _supposed_ to _stay_ a damn secret!

“Stop being dramatic. You did nothing wrong. And get off the floor. You look ridiculous. Does the general know about my return?”

“Not yet. I wanted to know of your safety, first.”

“Good. Help me up so we can go back to camp. We’re leaving tomorrow—”

“That’s not happening.” Changbin found his breath, shaking his head furiously as Yongbok and Chan stare at him curiously. “You can’t leave now! You’re injured!”

“Right. And I have to return to the palace. We’ve spent enough time here. I told you, we’ll leave once we accomplished what we have to do.”

“Well, stay a little longer! You can’t move, it’s dangerous. Your injury is only going to get worse.”

“Your highness, if I may...” Chan clears his throat, picking himself off the wood. “He’s right. It’d be best if you stayed a little longer and let your injuries heal a little more. The journey back is long and dangerous, it won’t do you any good back at the palace.”

Chan and Changbin were right. They were absolutely right. But Yongbok was stubborn. Changbin hated him as a general, as a soldier. He would hate him more now that he knew Yongbok was a prince. The crown prince of Baekje at that. The one who issued the orders to search and prowl around his village.

There was no turning back, no matter what he did.

“Fine.” Yongbok sighs, laying back down onto the cot much to his body’s relief. “But go to camp. Tell the general I’m back. Tell him to visit me later so I can receive his report.”

“Yes, your highness.” Chan bows, turning to Changbin. “Oh uhm... I’ll leave you two—thank you for saving his highness, by the way.”

Another bow to Changbin before the guard was out the door, leaving the two in silence.

Yongbok never wanted it to go this way, curse Chan. And the moment he thought he finally had a friend outside of the palace! Someone other than the officials or the scholars who look at him as nothing other than another a monarch honing his craft, albeit poorly.

And yes, Seungmin was a great friend, he wasn’t downplaying his friendship with Seungmin. No one could ever replace that puppy-eyed noble. But a part of Yongbok always wondered if it would have any sort of difference in friends if they never learned about his actual status. There was a huge divide between the classes. He knew and understood of where he stood and where the others stood. But _maybe,_ somehow, someway, he wondered if it was even possible for a prince to befriend peasants.

“I guess, this makes sense now,” Changbin says, taking Yongbok’s neatly folded overcoat beside the cot, pulling out the royal insignia from between the cloth. He hands it to the freckled prince with a bow and a half-hearted shrug. “It also makes sense why you seemed a little off.”

“Yeah.” What else was Yongbok supposed to say in this situation? Apologize? What for?

“Look, if I had known you were the prince, I wouldn’t have talked down to you like I had.” And there it was. There was always a prejudice that came with his status. It was fear that controlled relationships and classes, not respect or a sense of duty or whatever the hell.

“It’s- it’s okay...”

“But then again, I don’t think it would’ve changed much of that fact that you still helped me. I mean, you of course knew that you were a prince. But you still helped me. So... thank you still.”

“I don’t think you would’ve saved me, though, if you knew.” Yongbok laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to know, though.”

“I mean, prince or not, it’s still not changing the fact that you helped. Even if we fought a couple times—“ Changbin blinks, laughing. “Okay, _more_ than a couple times—but still! I think that being a prince won’t change that you’re Lee Yongbok. I’m still a little overwhelmed—I mean, a _prince??_ _The_ crown prince, at that. Oh God,” Changbin pulls at his hair, staring at the freckled prince with wide-eyes. “Did I just talk down to the crown prince of Baekje?!”

“Yes, yes, you did.” Yongbok giggles, pulling the farmer’s hand away from his hair before he could rip it out from his scalp. “But I’ll let it slide. Except for one thing.” Changbin arches an eyebrow, Yongbok rolling his eyes. “Yah. Seo Changbin, you called the crown prince a coward the first _hour_ of our meeting.”

“I didn’t. I called _you_ a coward.”

“Who is the crown prince.”

“I don’t think so.” Changbin smiles brightly. “I feel like Lee Yongbok and the crown prince are two different people, don’t you think? The crown prince wouldn’t have even _looked_ at a commoner. And I’m not patronizing you. I’m sure you had moments where you wanted to use your power. But, I’m saying that at least you gave us a chance. Even if it was minuscule. Nobles, even the middle ranks wouldn’t even spare us glances.”

“I never took you to be the sappy kind.” Yongbok shakes his head, Changbin scoffing.

“Are you hungry? My mother just cooked supper. You must be hungry.”

“I could eat.”

“Great!” Changbin exclaims, scrambling to his feet. “I know it won’t be like what you ate back at the palace, but...”

“No, no, it’s fine.” The freckled prince smiles at him, Changbin returning the gesture. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Okay! Stay put! I’ll be back in a second!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL TWO AND A HALF CHAPTERS LEFT (I'M SAYING TWO AND A HALF BECAUSE THE EPILOGUE IS REALLY SHORT)
> 
> BUT I TOLD YALL THIS STORY IS SHORT
> 
> Much Love <3 Ly


	13. | XII |

“Now, seeing you fishing is _completely_ absurd.”

 _Were_ they friends? Maybe. Maybe not...

But really, if Yongbok asked himself a little over a month ago if he thought he and Seo Changbin could get along, he would laugh, slap himself and go on about his day. Changbin was just... _Surely,_ this wasn’t Seo Changbin.

The days following their return to the village, Changbin did nothing but take care of the freckled prince. Of course, he went on about his chores after checking up on the younger, though only to return every time he passed by to see if Yongbok was okay.

Yongbok would always reassure him he was fine, living and breathing now and the next time Changbin checks up on him, and the next, and so on.

It didn’t stop the older from checking up on him, anyway.

While Yongbok was used to the pampering from his days at the palace, here was a little different in the way that Changbin talked and saw him. While the handmaids and eunuchs back at the palace talked to him with a such enormous distance (Yongbok doesn’t exactly mean physically even though that sometimes applied), like they weren’t there, even though they stood before him. Almost like mannequins with the way they talked to him—they were eunuchs and handmaids, after all. They couldn’t get close to royalty without permission, even if they took care of them.

Changbin, on the other hand, even though aware of the present fact that Yongbok was the crown prince, continued to talk comfortably with him—though a little more respectful than when they first met. Like he was ever-present when talking to Yongbok, not becoming a mannequin to save himself from the wrath of the throne.

He was really putting himself out there. And even though he was rough around the edges, getting to know him more, Yongbok realized how caring he was to people he knew. Of course, Yongbok didn’t know if they would ever get to the level of... something more than warm acquaintances? But he was happy with where they were now.

By the river, after long days convincing the older that he was fine and in need of sun. Changbin finally agreed that morning, especially since Yongbok was leaving the next day. Or at least Yongbok said. He was well enough to journey back to Ungjin, and there was no need to prolong his mission anymore. The king expected him. He’s been away from his proper duties for far too long.

“How so?” Yongbok hums, tugging on the line.

“I mean, I could kind of see you fishing as a general. But as a prince?? There’s no way in hell!”

“I’m telling you, my brother taught me.”

“Who is _also_ a damn prince, I’m assuming. Which makes _no goddamn_ sense.”

“Hey, we have hobbies too, you know,” the freckled prince scoffs, successfully catching other fish. He kills it mercifully, placing it into the basket.

“Yeah, I know. But I thought it’d be... I don’t know, horseback riding? Archery? Poetry? Not... _fishing_. That’s peasant work, for people like me. Not a hobby for princes. I mean, fish are slippery, slimy, smelly. Surely, you don’t want to handle that.”

“It sounds like _you_ don’t enjoy fishing. If you don’t want to fish, just say. I’ll do it.” Yongbok smiles brightly, handing the fishing rod back to the farmer. “But it’s just something that always calmed me, so I didn’t really care.”

“Oh, no, no. Keep it,” Changbin says, pushing the pole back to the younger. “I know you broke your fishing rod during the mission, and I know it’s not made by someone special like your brother or someone professionally but... Keep it. At least until you get a new one.”

Yongbok nods with a smile, placing the rod beside his scabbard and the basket of fish, leaning back onto his palms as he stared out onto the river. It’s not the best fishing rod, but hey, at least it accommodated his size; Yongbok didn’t have to lean over to stretch out the line. Besides, it was from none other than Seo Changbin.

He liked this. He liked the river, loved fishing, and staring out into the shimmering water. But Yongbok guessed he liked it even more when he had someone to spend it with. He remembers his days with Seungmin. That, even though the man was a whiny noble, was another presence in Yongbok’s life he couldn’t live without. Even though the younger didn’t exactly like showing his affection, Yongbok could still feel that he cared.

Like the time, even though he complained about his clothing, still helped Yongbok look for his fishing rod that a fish yanked into the river.

Or the time that the younger snuck into the palace late at night despite serious repercussions just because Yongbok couldn’t sleep the nights prior.

In a way, spending time with Changbin helped Yongbok appreciate his time with Seungmin a lot more. Not because the farmer was poor company, but because, maybe, Yongbok had a little more experience as to what friendship felt like.

“Would you return?” Changbin suddenly asks, his eyes never leaving the stream. “To visit or something. Or, maybe, I don’t know, hunt down _another_ group of spies.”

“I don’t think so.” Yongbok shrugs with a huff. He could see Changbin knit his brows, but kept quiet about his thoughts. “I mean, the king only sent me out here for this one thing. And I don’t really leave the capital, or the palace for that matter. But, I’ll try.”

“I wish there was just some other way.” The farmer huffs out an amused puff of air that only deflates when it hits the younger’s ears. “I really don’t mind getting to know you more. Even though we didn’t really get off on the right foot—“

“Then, why don’t we start over?” Yongbok sits up, bright eyes wide on Changbin. He tilts his head down in a bow, Changbin breaking out into a smile. “Hello, my name is Lee Yongbok.”

“We don’t have to start over, I already know you. Greeting each other again does jack shit.” Changbin rolls his eyes. “Besides, I think your many imperfections would only help you grow.”

“Wait, does this mean I’m boring right now??”

“No—that’s not what I—“ 

“Aish, I can’t believe you would say that to _me_ of all people. My feelings are hurt.” Yongbok slaps his hands over his chest in a mock hurt, faking a cry and a heave.

“You know what? Yes, you are boring right now,” Changbin deadpans. “I’m not surprised the prince has no humor.”

“You’re such a stick in the mud.” The freckled prince sticks his tongue out, though bursts out in a laugh with the older. “But, I have a question. _Did_ you actually learn how to fight from fending off bandits and animals?”

“Yes and no,” Changbin says. “I _practiced_ fighting bandits and wild animals. But I actually learned from this traveling swordsman who stayed with the village for about a year and a half, long, long ago. He used to be a general who escaped from his execution for helping a friend escape. He died, though. Some hunters found his body, attacked by wolves in the forest.”

“Now that you mention it, you’d make a great guard.”

“You think so?” Changbin turns to Yongbok, the freckled prince nodding and nudging him with his shoulder.

“Of course. Not just because you have the skill. But you have the qualities every guard should try to have.”

Changbin laughs at that, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll be a good enough guard. My job is out here, farming. Not in the army, protecting people or fighting for the monarchy.”

“If you think so. But... I don’t know if it’s much coming from me, but you’ll always be welcome in the palace if you ever decide to take the trip down to Ungjin.” Yongbok turns to Changbin, the older catching his gaze. Yongbok knew his father wouldn’t approve of letting a farmer onto palace grounds, or even anywhere _near_ the capital. But to hell with rules or the hierarchy!

He needed to take a step back. Learning to be a king was too big of a dream, learning to be a prince was no better. Maybe, first, before he got too far, he needed to learn how to connect to people. Learn how _he_ should be a better person for himself, not for the pleasure of others, but for himself. If he doesn’t understand the people or himself, how could he possibly rule over them?

And the start was right here, sitting next to him, beside him. The head-strong farmer that might’ve—not exactly teach him, but gave him a hint as to go about things. Unlike the scholars that spouted questionable lessons that Yongbok never understood. Maybe his father was right, he wouldn’t understand if he didn’t experience it for himself. Maybe this wasn’t actually a coup or something to get Yongbok out of the palace, but an actual lesson the king prepared for him. Though, maybe Seo Changbin and getting stabbed wasn’t part of the plan. And if anything, he’ll thank his father for this one thing.

What made a king? What made a prince? What made a friend? What made a person? It was all the same, really. How they all needed some sort of connection to the people around them.

“Could I... Could I do something?” Yongbok asks, leaning toward the older. Changbin stares at him but nods, the freckled prince pausing. He knew he should take risks, for that allowed new opportunities. But what if that risk only closed all opportunities? After all, that’s what a risk was. He didn’t know how any of it would turn out, and no matter of status or power would ever help him in a situation like this. A situation that shouldn’t need or even consider any sort of play into the classes. A situation between two people that, if Yongbok thought about it, should be personal, not political or some other concerning princes or farmers.

He takes the risk though, leaning forward to press his lips against the farmer’s, his eyes fluttering shut. His heart was hammering in his ears, frozen and quite unsure where to go from there. Amongst all of his inexperience, he wasn’t exactly qualified for this, either. Why did he even think of such a stupid idea?

“Oh! God, that was stupid! I’m sorry—“ Yongbok pulls away, Changbin staring at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. Pink dusted his face, his usually outspoken persona gone. He chokes on a word, not even getting it out as Yongbok bows furiously. That was such a stupid idea. Why, _why_ did Yongbok do that?! This would ruin everything they’ve had together, even though not much, it was pretty meaningful. Or at least, Yongbok considers.

“I- I—“ Changbin clears his throat, still unmoving from his spot. But he managed to bink a few times, finally finding his breath. “Oh—uhm...” His fingers found his lips, tapping them before shaking his head furiously. “It’s- it’s fine. Really—there’s no need to apologize. You—“

Yongbok shoves the basket of fish into the older’s hands, scrambling to his feet and bowing, even though he’s pretty sure he tore a suture or two because of the force of his bow.

“That’s for you and your family! If you excuse me, I have to look for Chan!” Yongbok almost yells, his face on fire. He didn’t even allow Changbin to sputter before he’s off and running back to the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ONE MORE CHAPTER + EPILOGUE LEFT!
> 
> I'll be updating the last chapter and the epilogue on the same day, so next week will be the last week of TMOaP!! I know this ff was super short, but I just wanted to do a small story on how Felix and Changbin met al those years ago :)
> 
> ANyway, hope y'all enjoy the last chapter next week >:))
> 
> Much Love <3 Ly


	14. | XIII |

"They're outside, you know."

Yongbok glances up from his cot, sitting up and shrugging at the farmer that entered the small room, shutting the paper door behind him.

"I know."

"So why don't you...? I thought you wanted to leave?" Changbin catches his gaze, the freckled prince shrugging.

"I don't know. Just trying to postpone the journey. Let's say I've grown attached to this place."

"Stop being dramatic, you've only been here a month and a half." Changbin laughs, crossing his arms. "But you really have to go. The general has been berating me with questions, I think he'll bust in here any second now."

Yongbok laughs, Changbin helping him up to his feet.

"But are you okay?" The farmer murmurs, holding onto the younger's arms, staring up at him.

"I'll live long enough to get to the palace," the freckled prince says. "But... before I leave, thank you. Really, for everything. I don't think all the riches in the world are enough to repay you."

"I told you, you don't have to repay me because you also helped me. It only makes us even, I guess," Changbin offers him a smile. He pats the younger's shoulder as the latter reaches for the fishing pole, an ironic contrast to the royal silk he changed into for the first time since their arrival. But in a way, it all felt worthless. Changbin didn't gawk at him like some material possession, the silks or the riches didn't matter in his eyes. And to Yongbok, that's what made him admirable, truly admirable. He was willing to live content with a simple but harsh life.

"Uhm... I'll miss you, Lee Yongbok." Changbin clears his throat, trying to wipe the pink off his face. "And I really hope you visit again. Maybe then, I can teach you how to raise cattle or... learn how to make straw sandals."

Yongbok's cheeks round into a smile, nodding, "I think that'll be fun."

"Right. So... When you're not busy, visit for a moment. You know I'll be waiting, right?" Changbin murmurs, his eyes soft. A hint of the vulnerability that the farmer never showed ever since their meeting. But Yongbok nods. He didn't know if he'll ever promise his return, but he looked forward to and will actively try to visit. At least he had someone to look forward to. He reaches forward, hesitating before placing a hand on the younger's shoulder. "And when you become king... You'll remember me, right?"

"Of course. I'll send letters if I can." The freckled prince laughs, using the fishing rod to help him wobble outside of the room. At his appearance, the few eunuchs, handmaids, captains and the general bow, the other soldiers on their horses unmoving and still until the freckled prince could mount his horse.

"Your highness, are you feeling well?" The general asks, tilting his head down as Yongbok hobbled over, the eunuchs trying to help him as much as they could.

"I'm fine. It's time to go. Ready, general?"

"Ready, Your Highness."

With the help from the eunuchs and the fishing rod, Yongbok heaves himself onto the horse, trying to bite back a hiss to keep his image in front of the company. As the others got on their horses, Yongbok glances back at the quaint hut, Changbin still standing by the paper door, staring at him.

The farmer tilts his head down in a bow, waving as Yongbok pressed his lips into a thin smile and a nod.

He really didn't want to leave the farmer. But it was just the harsh reality of it all, he guessed. Out there, in the wilderness, nothing mattered. Not rank or social status or background or history. But there, where Yongbok belonged—the capital or towns, it mattered, heavily. Changbin wouldn't be accepted where Yongbok went. And where Yongbok went, Changbin can't go. It was just for the better.

With a spur to his horse, he follows the general lead the company out of the village, heading across the plains back toward Ungjin. Where Yongbok belonged.

He didn't belong out here in the country. He belonged in the palace, on the throne, among the riches and the officials and the wars. And Changbin belonged out here, farming and taking care of the cattle, making sandals out of straw and living a harsh but simple life; he was right.

And this divide was real. It's what kept the kingdom balanced, after all.

But it still hurt. A part of him wanted to turn back, but most of him knew to continue on. He had things to attend to, purpose he needed to fulfill, and a kingdom he—

"Wait! Yah! Stop! Wait!" The general's horse teeter on her hind legs when another horse galloped in front of it, the soldiers' swords hissing against their scabbards and bows pointed at the sudden intruder.

But Yongbok only smiles, staring at the panting farmer that stopped an _entire_ company. See? He really was headstrong and hardworking. _Nothing_ could stop Seo Changbin.

"State your business immediately!" The general barks, Changbin scoffing.

"Seriously? I just saved your prince's life, and this is how you treat me?" He was headstrong and hardworking, sarcastic, and needed to learn when to _shut_ the hell up. That was the firsts of Seo Changbin Yongbok knew of. What else was the farmer?

"Lower your weapons," Yongbok reassured, gesturing to the farmer. "He means no harm. Hear him out."

"Yongbok—I mean—Your Highness. You said you would welcome me in Ungjin, didn't you?" He asks, the freckled prince nodding timidly, suppressing a smile as the older stumbles over his words. "So I... I think I need a reward, don't you think?"

"A reward?" The general scoffs, Yongbok arching an eyebrow.

"Your Highness, I saved your life. I helped you complete your mission. If it's not too much to ask, I just want one thing."

The general turns to Yongbok, who had stared at the farmer all this time, unmoving, his head rid of thoughts. But he nods. He didn't even need to hear what Changbin had to say.

The farmer brightens, smiling that Yongbok couldn't help but return the warm gesture.

"Please, take me with you." 

**—-**

"Good job on the report. Everything seems to be in order. I heard you got hurt, though."

"I'm fine, royal father. It's healed enough."

"Still, visit Sana after this. Let her properly look at it, just in case. I don't want you to die prematurely."

"Of course, royal father."

"One question, though." Yongbok nods, staring at the floor. "Why the _hell_ did you bring a farmer in here?"

Yongbok glances toward Changbin sitting next to him, the farmer peeking up with wide eyes and an awkward laugh. This was a bad idea, wasn't it?

"Oh—uhm..." Yongbok had never stuttered in front of his father before. God, everything was ruined. This was such a horrible idea! Why did he agree to it again?? "He's the one who saved my life, royal father. I couldn't have finished the mission without him."

"So?" He arched an eyebrow, the freckled prince clearing his throat and bowing, clutching at his silk hanbok.

"He asked for a reward."

"Fair enough. But he could've stayed in his village, let a few guards transport rewards to him. What does he want?"

"He wants— _I_ want him to be my personal guard."

Silence. Nothing but silence. He could almost hear Changbin exclaim, or his father yell, but there was nothing. Nothing but his heart in his ears, swallowing hard as he blinked furiously with his eyes still on the wood floor.

"A farmer? You want... a _farmer_ as your personal guard?" The king finally asks, Yongbok glancing up and meeting his gaze. It was more confused than anything. And honestly, Yongbok too. He knew it sounded absurd that he wanted a _farmer_ as his personal guard, but he swears Changbin wasn't _just_ a farmer!

"Royal father, believe me when I say that he's a more than exceptional fighter and loyal. If ordered, he could probably take on five of the guards outside."

The king arched an eyebrow, and even Yongbok doubted his own words. That had been a lie. He didn't _actually_ know if Changbin could do that. Maybe, with further training, but it was a huge claim that should hopefully convince his father.

"Really, royal father, you said you'd give me more responsibilities at my success and return. So this is the only responsibility I'm asking for, truly asking for," Yongbok continues, knitting his brows. "I'm asking for Seo Changbin to be my personal guard to protect me. He'll be my responsibility as I am his."

The king sighs, but nods, Yongbok almost brightening. But he continues to stay calm, calm to sit through this meeting without embarrassing himself.

"Alright. I think it's quite irresponsible of you for asking for something so... absurd. But taking action for your irresponsibility is what you as a prince should start doing," he says.

"Of course, royal father. Thank you." The two bow to the king, picking themselves off the floor and heading outside. Once out of the eyes of the king, Changbin and Yongbok immediately heave out a huge breath, holding their hearts and staring at each other wide eyed.

"I can't believe you just did that," Changbin murmurs, following Yongbok down the hallway and outside the offices. "That was probably the scariest thing I've ever done in my entire life. And I didn't even say anything."

"I know, right?!" The younger exclaims, though turning and smiling brightly at the older. "But see that? It all went well."

"Really? I thought you said I would be part of the army? Not... your guard." Changbin frowns, the younger laughing and patting his cheek.

"You don't want to be my guard?" He asks. "I just don't think the army is suitable for you. It's boring, disgusting and honestly a boring chore."

"I don't see how personally serving the crown prince is any different??"

"Yah, now that you're my guard, you can't talk down to me like that." Yongbok pouts, the guard rolling his eyes but smiling.

"Alright, _Your Highness_. What would you like me to do?"

"First, take a bath and change into your uniform. The handmaids should help yo.," Yongbok hums, clasping his hands behind his back. "Second, pick out a few guards from the barracks that could escort your parents to the capital. I'm giving them an estate nearby, so they don't have to live so far away from you."

Yongbok smiles, handing his scabbard to the farmer.

"Third, you, Seo Changbin, are now a personal guard to the crown prince of Baekje."


	15. | Epilogue |

What made a king?

After all this time, Yongbok thought he had figured it all out. He thought he could take on the throne, finally grow into the great king everyone in the kingdom expected him to be.

But it just wasn't that simple, not yet. Actually, it wasn't ever going to be simple. That's why he even went through with this mission in the first place.

He knew time was short, and he knew and understood that he wasn't qualified enough to take the throne. He wanted what was best for the kingdom, and he understood he couldn't provide that for the people in the kingdom and the people he loved and held so dear.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. You know I do." It seemed like a ridiculous joke on the amount of trust he placed on Changbin. But it's not, never had been, never will be. If the older told him he needed to stab his thigh, jump off a cliff or otherwise, Yongbok would do it. He knew that whatever Changbin did, he did it for the freckled prince.

"Then you don't have to worry, I'll find your brother no matter the cost. We figured out he's alive, isn't he? The informants in Goguryeo, the messengers from Silla. It's enough to go on a positive limb."

"But what if he's just... what if _you and_ Chan don't come back?" Yongbok murmurs, lowering the brush pen and clutching at his hanbok. The guard sitting on the opposite side of his desk frowns, scooting the pillow closer to the freckled prince.

"We will. I know we will. I still have to protect you, too, you know?" Changbin smiles, Yongbok returning a small smile.

"But I'll be lonely while you're gone."

"Just... Think of me whenever you fish," Changbin mumbles, catching the freckled prince's gaze. "If you ever feel lonely, just remember that I'll be back soon. You can take walks around the palace at night, you know, like you usually do with me. Besides, I threatened Seungmin to take care of you. I know that's not saying much since... it's _Seungmin_ , but hey, at least it's a _small_ reassurance."

"Alright." Yongbok laughs, the older leaning forward.

"Could I do something?"

"Like?"

"Something a guard should never do to their prince."

"You never have to ask for permission, you know?" Yongbok murmurs, his eyes wide and they're, oh, so close, the guard leaning against the table. But Yongbok chokes on his breath, blinking. "You could do anything to me."

"Right, but if that were the case, I would've been executed a long, long time ago," the older mumbles. He places a hand on the younger's shoulder and—pauses.

This reminded Yongbok when he kissed Changbin during days long gone. During the days when Changbin was nothing but a mere farmer and Yongbok an insufferable prince. Days that seemed so simple and content, when they first met each other.

When a stab wound and morning spent fishing truly brought them together.

That kiss was such a stupid idea. Even now, Yongbok is berating himself for it. While, no, it made little to no impact to their relationship, it still stuck to the back of the prince's mind. Scratched at his thoughts while he sat with Changbin as he goes over paperwork, or trains with him, or maybe something simple—walking through the town. Spits and chews at his feelings.

Changbin never addressed it or ever brought up again since that day. But some part of Yongbok wanted him to. That immature part of him wanted to...

The guard reaches up and ruffles the younger's hair affectionately with a smile, pulling him into an awkward hug from the angle and the table between them. But Yongbok returns it, shutting his eyes and pressing his cheek against the older's shoulder with a sigh.

"I'll miss you, Yongbok," Changbin rubs the freckled prince's back, petting his hair. "But I'll bring your brother back. I promise, if it's the last thing I'll do."

"Please come back safely..." Yongbok murmurs, not wanting to let the older go. But Changbin gently pulls the younger's hands off of him, holding them tightly with a smile. He kissed his knuckles, before standing to his feet with a bow.

"I'll be as quick as I can." He smiles. A smile that brought Yongbok back to the time in the village out in the countryside, Baekje, borderline Gaya. Where nothing mattered, not social status or background or history, just the actions that they decided to do from then on.

"If you excuse me. I have to get Jisung and Hyunjin ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA ITS OVER. LIKE ITS FINALLY OVER
> 
> THE MAKINGS OF A PRINCE, A CHANGLIX SPIN OFF IS FINALLY OVER. 
> 
> I'm sorry that this book was so short, but it was just a small insight to Felix and Changbin's relationship in AKTP. So for yall wondering about Changlix... They're not together :/ Bc Changbin is trying to do the best for Felix.
> 
> BUT ANYWAY, THE EPILOGUE KINDA MADE ME CRY.
> 
> This had been a great journey with yall, short, but still fun. I hope y'all enjoyed reading The Makings Of a Prince. 
> 
> Much Love <3 Ly


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